


The Treasure Of Eyja Nott

by harrypanther



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bad guys will eventually pay for their actions, Count of Monte Cristo AU, Did I mention revenge?, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kidnapping, Prison, Revenge, Smuggling, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Treason, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2020-03-07 22:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 144,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18882226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrypanther/pseuds/harrypanther
Summary: Revenge/Modern AU. Hiccup Haddock is framed for treason by his best friend, condemned by the attorney who promised leniency and betrayed by the woman he loves. Sent to die in the inescapable prison on Freezing-To-Death, he vows to escape and take his revenge on those who wronged him…





	1. Condemned

**A/N:** Ah, revenge, sweet revenge… This idea came up as I was chatting to Nightstar Fury and I summarised the plot of the Count of Monte Cristo…and I realised that I could really reimagine that. A quick reread of Captain Fury also got the creative juices flowing. So here is the Modern HTTYD version of Dumas' classic tale of love, jealousy, betrayal and revenge…

Rated M for lots of reasons including adult themes, graphic violence, sexual abuse and language.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own How To Train your Dragon. Rights remain with Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks.

'The Count of Monte Cristo' was written by Alexandre Dumas and is the classic (and in my opinion, best) revenge novel. I have borrowed some of the plot (at least the major outline) from this work. And yes, it is my favourite novel!

**-0-0-0-**

**ONE: Condemned**

"Guilty!"

The gavel slammed down and cut through the gasps and protests that erupted in Berk Central Criminal Court. The Jury all looked ashamed and no one could meet the eyes of the huge shape of the Mayor, sitting behind the defendant, his flaming red beard familiar to everyone on Berk. Judge Hoark slammed the gavel down again and his cool brown eyes swept the room, finally landing on the tall shape of the defendant.

"Hiccup Haddock, you are found guilty of treason against the Government and People of Berk by consorting with her enemies and plotting the downfall of the democratic government. I have taken note of your exemplary character references and the fact that you are a member of Berk's ancient line of Chiefs-but in a way, this makes your heinous crimes even more dreadful. There is really only one penalty in the United Archipelago Penal Code for such a terrible crime. And since the death penalty was abolished a century ago…I have no option but to sentence you to Life Imprisonment without Parole in the Jotunheim Maximum Security Prison on Freezing-To-Death."

There was a gasp and then silence as every eye turned to the convict. Hiccup lifted his chin and stared at the judge, his emerald eyes dark with emotion. Tall and lean, his sharp-jawed face framed by casually messy auburn hair, Hiccup's face was pale, his few freckles standing out against his ashen skin. Dressed in his best brown leather jacket with a deep autumn red shirt and dark brown pants, every eye focussed on him-but he turned and looked at the blonde young woman sitting beside the Mayor. She was shaking her head, clear blue eyes filled with shock and incomprehension.

"It's not true," Hiccup said.

"Take him to the holding cells to await the transport!" the Judge said.

"I'll appeal!" Hiccup swore. The man nodded.

"Of course," he said. "Guards-do your duty." But Hiccup turned to the shape of the Mayor, the huge man six foot ten and nearly four hundred pounds, a massive mountain of a man with flaming red braided beard, flaming red hair and cool grey-green eyes.

"Dad-I didn't do it. I swear, I didn't do it…"

And he saw his father, the proud descendant of Chiefs, a man who had dedicated his life to Berk, crack. Stoick's face was stricken, his eyes shining with grief.

"I-I know son," he croaked. "I know. I trust you. And I will do everything to get this sorted out, to clear your name…" But Hiccup was led away, glancing over his shoulder to fix the vision of his father and the blonde girl, who was the love of his life, in his memory.

oOo

They kept him in shackles even though he was in a cell, sitting waiting to be taken to the most secure, remote and fearsome prison on the planet. So he sat back on the bed, his head bowed and felt utter despair wrap around him. It was the most mistake and yet…he knew who was to blame. The same man he had taken in as a partner, who he had given a job and helped and supported. Someone supposed to be his best friend…

_"_ _This isn't a letter delivery service!"_

_"_ _The sender of the package paid good money for us to take a single suitcase to Icefell. He specified the date and time for the delivery and he also specified that we must not, under any circumstances, look in the case."_

_"_ _And this doesn't strike you as say, suspicious?"_

_"_ _Why should it?'_

_"_ _Well, all of this smacks of smuggling at best and at worst…well, Icefell is the most inhospitable port in the whole North. It's the haunt of smugglers, gangsters, people traders, even terrorists. That case could contain anything. Our best course of action is to hand the damned thing over to the Police and tell them everything we know."_

_"_ _I-I can't…"_

_"_ _What do mean you can't, Eret?" The tone had been sharp and in retrospect, he should have seen the cunning in the man's eyes and the manipulation in his words._

_"_ _They made me do it, Hicc! You know, things haven't been going so well at the tables and I'm in a bit of trouble…"_

_"_ _And I've told you your troubles are your own business, not mine! I offered to help if you accepted help-but you refused an intervention or Gamblers Anonymous and instead, you just keep getting more loans and carrying on. Whatever you're in, it's your problem-and yours alone."_

_"_ _They're gonna kill me, Hicc! They told me I had to deliver the package or they would find me and…cut bits of me off. Lots of bits. Please, Hicc! If you were ever my friend, you'll help me now…"_

_"_ _That's pretty low, Eret. I've been your friend for almost ten years and I set up Night Fury Transport so both of us could have a living. But ever since I put the money up, I repair the aircraft, I set everything up…you have just been a drag. At the start sure, you made an effort but since then…you've been late, drunk, just plain missing…"_

_"_ _I've had issues…"_

_"_ _You've had no self-control or any loyalty! You used me and continue to use me. Why should I believe a word you say now?"_

_"_ _Because I'm telling the bloody truth! Those men found me and if I don't deliver the suitcase, they're gonna kill me, Hiccup. Please…I'm begging you…"_

_"_ _You make the delivery. I'm having nothing to do with it."_

_But he had broken that vow as well…_

"Hiccup?"

His eyes focussed and his head snapped up, seeing the familiar and oh-so longed-for shape of Astrid standing at the bars, her blue eyes filled with complete lack of hope. In a second, he was on his feet, crossing to the bars in a couple of long strides, his emerald eyes filled with relief at seeing her.

"Astrid," he breathed, reaching his hands through the bars and gently stroking her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly at the tender caress of his calloused fingers. "Milady, I am so glad you came…"

"Babe-I couldn't not come," she reminded him. "You're my heart, my life. We've been together since Middle School. I can't imagine a world without you in it." He gave a bitter smile.

"I'm still here," he reminded her. "Just locked up in the most inescapable prison on the face of the planet, in a place so cold they named it 'Freezing-To-Death'."

"But my world won't have you in," she told him, her eyes shining. "Thor, I sound like some pathetic female from a melodrama, not a Hofferson."

"My ferocious Valkyrie would never sound pathetic," he told her gently, his fingers gently paying with a wisp of her long golden hair. "She'd be sad but then she would move on because no one could expect her to wait…"

"I'm waiting," she said stubbornly as he managed a small smile. "I'm waiting until the ends of the world."

"I can't ask that of you," he told her gently.

"And I can't accept you're giving up," she retaliated, her eyes glittering with fire. "You're innocent-I know that. Your Dad knows that. Anyone who knows you knows that!"

"And yet, here I am…" he commented sarcastically.

"And he and I will never give up on you," she told him sharply. "The moment I leave here, I am lodging an appeal."

"On what grounds?" he asked. "I mean, I apparently had a fair trial and the person who is actually to blame lied his face off and they believed him. There was no paper trail or any other evidence to link the suitcase to him so they convicted the person who took the case to the island."

"I will find evidence," she told him spiritedly. "I will find evidence that he was the one who accepted the case and that he is the one who knew what was in there and who it was for. You did nothing wrong except try to help a man who claimed to be your friend and who claimed that he would be killed if he didn't accept the case and deliver it. And both of those claims were false!"

Hiccup sighed, his shoulders sagging.

"Believing me, not him, isn't grounds for appeal, my love," he sighed. "The Jury came to the opposite view. I believe that is the basis of our legal system…"

"And it's wrong!" Astrid blurted out. "I'll go to the Chief Prosecutor, Viggo Grimborn, and make him reopen the case…"

"And how will you do that?" he teased her gently, feeling his heart lift a little at her staunch and fierce defence of him. "And please don't threaten him with an axe! Though it would earn you jail as well, I doubt they put women in Freezing-To-Death and we would never get adjoining cells…"

"If I thought they would put me next to you, I would," she promised fiercely and then her head dropped. "What am I going to do? You and Stoick are literally the only people I have in the world. I mean, Uncle Finn died when I was five and my parents when I was sixteen. Your father took me in without hesitation-we were already boyfriend and girlfriend then anyway-and you have been all my family since then. I-I can't go on without you."

"You must," he urged her.

"How can you accept this?" she demanded and he sighed.

"What else can I do?" he asked her simply. "Astrid-I'm hurt and angry and frankly terrified! I'm an innocent man who completed a delivery to save my friend and he lied and I end up condemned to die in prison for treason. I would never betray Berk or Dad or you! And my best friend has framed me for this-and no one will listen. And in an hour or so, they will drag me off to prison…and I will never see any of you ever again. There is no hope of escape…and the place is the worst prison on the planet. I have no idea what will happen…but I know I will never return…"

"You could…" Astrid said suddenly. "You could escape…" He managed to cup her face in her hands and stare into her eyes.

"Appeal by all means…and I would hope you would…" he told her. "And I will never give up. But one day, if all hope is spent, you should move on. You shouldn't wait for me because I think I will never leave there. And if I can imagine you happy and smiling and living a good and happy life, then maybe, I can survive in there." She blinked and tears trickled down her cheeks.

"I love you," she whispered. "I will wait for you, Babe." He leaned closer.

"I love you, Milady," he breathed and leaned forward, managing to reached enough through the bars for their lips to meet and for the two young lovers to lose themselves in a desperate final kiss. Finally, breathless, they separated.

"Hiccup," she whispered. "I'm never giving up on you…" She lifted her hand, showing him the small silver ring with a tiny turquoise in it. "This ring is never leaving my hand. You are never leaving my heart." She rested her hand against his chest. "I am always with you, Babe. So be strong. Be brave. And hang on. I will find some way of getting you out of there. There will always be a Hiccup and Astrid."

"Whatever it means," he murmured.

"Whatever you want it to mean."

"Always and forever, Hiccup and Astrid," he breathed. "I'll hang on. And I will do everything I can to come home to you." He quirked a small smile. "I am an engineer and a pilot. And just because the prison has never had anyone escape doesn't mean I can't." He forced himself to give a small smile. "You know me-I love to be the first to do anything."

"And I'll look after your Dad and Toothless in the meantime," she promised. He sighed.

"He's an old plane-don't let Eret scrap him or sell him," he breathed. She nodded.

"I promise. I'll get him away before I do anything else…" she promised.

"Before you appeal," he told her urgently. "Look, if my Toothless is safe, I can at least relax. A tiny, tiny bit." She lunged forward and kissed him again.

"And _then_ I appeal," she said, forcing herself to smile.

"Time's up," the guard said, his grey uniform marked in silver with the crest of the Berk PD. Astrid clung onto the bars.

"Hiccup," she breathed. "Don't give up! Please…don't give up. I love you!"

"I love you, Milady," he called as she was escorted out and exhausted, he leaned against the bars. But the guards walked forward.

"Time to go, traitor," the guard said. Hiccup's head snapped up.

"But my father…" he breathed.

"We can't wait forever," the guard told him cruelly, his cold blue eyes and full blond beard standard for Berk. He motioned to the other three guards and they unlocked the cell. Hiccup backed away.

"No…" he breathed, his pulse accelerating. The guards lunged in and grabbed his arms, manhandling his lanky shape out of the cell and down the corridor. He struggled and fought but the guards were all much taller and more heavily built than he was and as he resisted, a fist crashed into his middle. Breath crushed from his body, he folded, flopping like a beached fish.

"SON!"

Fighting for breath, he looked up.

"Dad!" he called as the huge shape of his father surged forward, massive fists clenched to try to rescue his son. The snap of firing bolts cut through the melee as the other two guards raised their automatic weapons and levelled them at the desperate shape of the Mayor.

"Let my son go! He's innocent!" he bellowed, his furious shape tense and angry but not wild enough to walk into a hail of bullets.

"Wrong!" the leading guard said, his blond beard moving as he spoke. His scornful voice and the Mayor's face growing red with fury. "He was found guilty by a jury of his peers and rightfully condemned for his heinous crimes!"

"He's no traitor!" Mayor Stoick Haddock yelled.

"Yes, he is." A clear, cultured voice cut through the chaos and Stoick turned to see the neat shape of Chief Prosecutor Viggo Grimborn standing behind him. The man was muscular and poised, his black suit and shirt clearly made of the finest materials by the best tailors. His dark hair was cropped close and his manicured beard was immaculate. His dark brown eyes were pitiless. Mayor Haddock turned to him in fury.

"My son is no traitor!" he repeated, his voice thick with hatred.

"Mayor, you have my deepest and most sincere sympathies-but as things stand, your son is a condemned traitor and has to be treated as such!" the Prosecutor told him reasonably. "I grieve for you-I really do-but I can only deal with things as they are, not as we want or hope for them to be."

"Eret lied," Stoick growled.

"The jury believed him-and the facts pointed to your son as being the person who made the delivery of secret papers to the Terrorist Bludvist," Grimborn pointed out calmly.

"But it's wrong! My son never knew what was in the case and he only made the delivery to save his friend from gangsters who were threatening him for his gaming debts!" Stoick snapped.

"There was no proof of that," Grimborn said quietly. "Bring me proof and I will overturn the conviction and reopen the case. I will happily declare a mistrial because this young man is clearly an upstanding citizen…but I am a servant of the law. And as things stand, the law says Hiccup Haddock is a traitor and must be imprisoned for life to protect the rest of us."

"RKG," Hiccup said suddenly. "There were initials almost rubbed off the case-but they read RKG. That could be a start."

The Prosecutor frowned, his thick brows dipping as his cool eyes looked calculating.

"I shall investigate forthwith," he promised, resting a hand briefly on the Mayor's shoulder. "You have my word, Mayor Haddock. I shall do everything in my power to ensure that your son gets the break that he deserves." And then he nodded. "But in the meantime, he must be transported to the prison as the law demands."

Stoick's head dropped and the fight oozed from him. Then he broke away and walked to his son, wrapping the lean shape in a huge hug, burying his face in his son's shoulder.

"Be strong, son," he murmured, his voice cracked with emotion. "I believe you. I trust you. I love you. I know you are innocent. And I will move Asgard itself to prove that you are not a traitor." Hiccup leaned against his father, closing his eyes and trying to fix the memory.

"I know, Dad," he murmured. "I would never betray Berk-or you. I love you. And I'm so sorry I let you down."

"You never disappointed me," Stoick murmured. "A man could never have had a better son. You stay strong and we'll have you out of there in no time. And I'll write to let you know how things are going. Just…keep your spirits up. I will free you." And then he pulled back as the guards gripped the young man's shoulders once more. "Love you, son."

"Love you, Dad," Hiccup murmured and managed a small smile as he was hauled away. He snatched a final glimpse over his shoulder and then he was pushed through the doors and as they slammed, he closed his eyes.

They took him straight to the helipad and added shackles to his manacles, before forcing him into a heavy military copter. The engineer in Hiccup swept his gaze over the solid blocky craft, grey with red markings of the RD-100 class, an old but solid workhorse of the Archipelago that he had worked on during his engineering degree. His expert ear heard the faint dissonance in the motor and he frowned, knowing it needed a service but should cope with the trip north. The pilot seemed competent, steadfastly looking at his instruments as they guards clambered in and the door slammed closed. Hiccup found his shackles fastened to a loop on the floor of the cabin and then they took off. He cast a glance through the small grubby window in the door, seeing the shapes of Stoick, Astrid and Grimborn standing on the pad, watching him leave. Astrid kissed the ring on her finger and then placed the hand over her heart, her eyes fixed on him. His father waved until the chopper vanished into the clouds and his son was gone.

The ride was long and cold, the bumps as they hit the turbulence north of Berk jolting the prisoner and making him feel sick. But they flew on and on, skirting storms and finally rising over the snow-locked land of Freezing-To-Death. The guards began to mutter, keen for the meal and warm drink they would get before they had to make the return journey while Hiccup felt his spirits plummet to his boots. They circled a cruel looking solid stone fortress perched on the very edge of a cliff, with high thick walls, razor wire, searchlights and guards on every entrance. Slowly, they touched down on the helipad just outside the main entrance on the land side, a huge gatehouse with a portcullis as well as heavy leapt gates and double guards.

A welcoming committee was waiting for them, four guards and a huge man with wild black hair, a wild black beard and a scarred face. He wore the grey uniform of a Prison Governor and a red sash just for good measure while his men were in grey wearing helmets with face-covering masks that echoed old Viking helmets. And as soon as they touched down, even before the rotors had stopped, the guards had wrenched the door open and hauled the prisoner from the relative warmth of the helicopter into the bone-chilling cold of the helipad. Dazed, suddenly fighting for breath in the searing cold and face so cold it felt like he had been slapped, Hiccup hunched up and tried to back away as the Governor walked forward and gave a yellow, menacing grin.

"Welcome to Hell," he said.


	2. The Prison No One Escapes From

**Two: The Prison No One Escapes From**

Hiccup had never imagined anywhere could be so secure, so severe and so damned cold. As he was hauled through the stone corridors of the infamous Jotunheim Prison of Freezing-To-Death, he felt himself almost give up-but the stubborn core of the descendant of Viking Chiefs metaphorically grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

 _They won't give up-so neither can you,_ he reminded himself. _This place can be endured. You have to hang on and survive. They will get you out. Your Dad and Astrid will never give up._

So he forced himself to look up, memorising the layout, the levels of stairs-straight and winding, the confusing markings and levels as they went up and down, along and back as they disorientated him before they finally took him to the lowest level and unfastened his shackles and manacles before throwing him into a cold stone cell. Before he could even turn around, the door slammed behind him. Slowly, he got to his feet, rubbing the red weals around his wrists and inspecting his new home and trying not to feel utter despair.

He was in a room twelve by twelve feet, the walls made of a flecked grey stone. The roof was high above him, probably about twelve feet as well and the floor consisted of uneven stone flags. In the wall opposite to the heavy metal door was a steep square channel one by one foot leading up to a very high barred window with the briefest glimpse of the grey scudding sky. There was a small raised step to one side of the cell with a single blanket on it and a pillow that seemed to be empty. Breathing heavily, he walked back and forth across the cell, feeling the cold air raise goosebumps on his skin and then he stared at the door. He could hear steps closing and instinctively, he backed up.

The door slammed open and four men in the guard uniforms entered, followed by a fifth man with a mean face, a pointed nose and a rather disappointing moustache. His hazel eyes were mean and cruel and he looked at the prisoner with an unpromising leer. The man looked him up and down.

"You don't look much for a traitor," he said. "I am disappointed-I had hoped for much more. You really are a rather unimpressive specimen."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Hiccup found himself saying. "Wasn't exactly planning this on getting up this morning." The man lurched forward and shoved Hiccup back a step, his expression cruel.

"My name is Savage. Lieutenant Savage. I am in control of this wing. And that makes me your god!" he snarled. Hiccup bit his lip, aching to snark a reply back but he was trapped here with this man forever so antagonising him straight off probably wasn't the smartest move. He gave a small nod.

"Um…okay…" he mumbled.

"You haven't been processed, have you?" Savage taunted him as Hiccup shook his head. So the Lieutenant gestured and the guards sprang forward, roughly removing his jacket and belt. Savage frowned then wrestled his wrist watch off, staring at the classic Aviator's watch and making a scornful face. "And not much here worth bothering either."

"That's mine!" Hiccup protested, struggling.

"It was yours," Savage corrected him brutally, turning the watch over in his hands. "Maybe another blanket and pencils and paper. Yes, that's all it's worth."

"All what is worth?" Hiccup protested.

"These are no longer yours," Savage told him. "You're new. You have earned no privileges. You receive food twice a day. You have two blankets and a slop bucket. And paper and will be able to receive letters. And you may write once a month."

"Once a month?" Hiccup echoed, still struggling. "But that's not enough. I have rights. I…"

"You have nothing!" Savage yelled, suddenly closing his hand round Hiccup's throat. "You have absolutely nothing. Not your freedom. Not a single right. You are condemned to die here, in the middle of nowhere, in a prison where there is no visiting. Where the area is so remote and inhospitable that no one is allowed to travel here. And the only way out of this place is in a coffin that the ground is too hard to bury. So when you finally die, your coffin will be pitched into the ocean, into the Sullen Sea that will not even notice your passing. And there will never be a grave or any other marker-just another traitor who has paid his dues."

"My family will never give up!" Hiccup argued. "They will be lodging an appeal. They will get my conviction overturned and I will be freed."

Savage snorted and released him, motioning to the guards to toss another blanket at the young man and then leave.

"This is the place of last resort, a prison men are only sent to when all appeals are spent or futile," he sneered."No one is coming for you. No appeal will be granted. They send men here when they want you forgotten. To the outside world, you are already buried."

The slamming of the door echoed through the room as Hiccup staggered to the bed space and collapsed.

In his heart, he knew there was no hope.

oOo

Stoick slammed the phone down, the force almost cracking the plastic of the receiver. His face was red with anger and frustration that every avenue, every turn seemed to be blocked and that there were hurdles in every direction. All he could do was keep on plugging, keep on pushing until he could finally make some headway. But for now… He lifted the receiver and dialled once more.

He looked up as the door opened and Astrid entered. She was looking pale and there were deep shadows under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept at all. And she probably hadn't, imagining all sorts of terrible things happening to Hiccup. She looked up, her golden hair lank and dropping from her braid as she moved, smiling weakly and resting a freshly baked pie on the table. The crust was a golden brown and there was a delicious aroma coming from the pie, meaning it was one that Hiccup had made and frozen which she had warmed up for them…but in truth, neither had much of an appetite.

Stoick motioned her to sit as she served up the pie and both picked at the meat and pastry, each lost in their thoughts of the person missing. As Stoick looked at her, he recalled that Hiccup and Astrid had known each other since they were little, their parents all friends. They had always been friends and when they got together in Sophomore Year of High School, it had been a relief. So when Astrid's parents had perished in that fire, Stoick had instantly offered to take her in. His wife, Valka, had died years earlier in a car accident and he and Hiccup had lived together in a house that as much too large for them but which Stoick would never leave because it was his ancestral home and still had too many memories of his dead wife: having Astrid around had made the place more homely-especially since it was obvious even to Stoick's mildly untrained eye that the two were in love.

Of course, it hadn't been plain sailing. Astrid was almost completely untalented in the kitchen and her attempts to help out had almost poisoned the pair before they decided she should be confined to heating up preprepared food-with strict instructions, of course-and serving desserts. But she was a surprisingly skilled seamstress and a hard worker, keeping the place spotless and ensuring it felt like home. Over the years, Stoick had come to think of Astrid as his daughter-in-law already and he often wondered why Hiccup hadn't popped the question and asked her to marry him yet. They were close, a loving couple who were clearly deeply in love and who complimented each other perfectly. The Mayor wondered if it had been Hiccup's inherent stubbornness that had delayed the big announcement-that would now never happen.

"We shouldn't waste it," Astrid said, her voice hoarse from crying. She would never admit it…but he had heard her sobbing the previous night, as he had sat in his armchair, staring at the fire all night and recalling when Hiccup had been a tiny boy, filled with energy and curiosity and life…and who would never have harmed anyone.

"No," the Mayor sighed. "He made a mean pie."

"Makes," Astrid said sharply. "Makes. he's not dead."

"Aye," Stoick murmured, closing his eyes as he took a mouthful-and then he was instantly taken back to those evenings in the kitchen as Hiccup sliced the meat left-handed (which had always looked wrong, to Stoick's way of thinking) and had made pastry with the same skill, care and attention as he had with anything he did. They had a few pies left from the last batch and Stoick knew when they ate the last one, it would be like losing his son all over again. "And this is good." She took a small bite and nodded.

"I could be classified as a weapon of mass destruction for my cooking but Hiccup is so talented," she sighed. "And I miss him. I miss having him in my arms. I miss his arms around me. I miss his warmth and his snores and that insanely messy hair and the way he looks in the morning and…I just miss him…" She blinked. "I love him. And no one cares that he is innocent."

"I cannot seem to get a message through to Grimborn," Stoick growled. "He has clearly given orders to refuse my calls and fob me off. So I will need to go to him in person."

"He'll want some new information to reopen the investigation," Astrid reminded him. "You said he mentioned the letters RKG. Any idea?"

"There is no company or organisation that is registered in that name," Stoick sighed. "I suppose I could look for a person but it could be anywhere across the Archipelago and from any one of the islands…"

"I'll start in the Berk phone book after we've eaten," Astrid offered. "Because it's better than doing nothing. I am not giving up-because I know he will be hoping and praying that we will be trying to get him out of there." She looked up. "Have you written?"

"Once already," Stoick admitted. "I'll write again when I have something to tell him."

"Tell him you love him and that you are still fighting for him. That you are always fighting for him. Because that is what he desperately needs to hear right now," she told him. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

"You're right, lass," he murmured. "I'll write tonight." She squeezed back.

"I'll make us some coffee and we can decide what we need to do next to get him out of there."

oOo

It was cold and dispiriting in the cell as Hiccup awoke for his first morning in Jotunheim Prison. He was cold and his skin was prickled with goosebumps as he curled up tighter, pulling the thin blankets around his lanky frame. He had dreamed he was home, that he was lying in Astrid's arms, a hand gentling her long silky hair and teasing her by counting her freckles. His heart ached that he would never wake again to stare into those beautiful sea-blue eyes, never hear her voice sleepily greet him. Never feel her warmth against him. Never make love to her again.

His eyes opened again and he stared up at the stone walls of his cell. The air was chilly and he could hear rain beating against the tiny pane of glass over his window, though a trickle of rain was dripping through what must be a hole in the barrier. Miserably, he sat up.

The day was long and cold with food delivered at probably around eight in the morning and again around six in the evening. There was a slot in the door where his metal plate had been placed and some thin gruel was slopped in. Water was splashed into his jug and his slop bucket was emptied. But beyond that, he was alone.

He had found a small stone in the cell and using it, he scratched a single line on his wall by the bed to mark his first day in captivity. Then he had gotten up, walking across his cell and back, only a handful of steps, pacing back and forth as he tended to when he was thinking as he tried to focus on something other than the utter desolation and despair. He did stretches and push-ups, sit-ups and squats to try to distract himself and keep warm and then he sat down on the bed and picked up a sheet of paper than had been pushed under the door in a sheaf with two pencils.

"I can't give up," he murmured. "Now let's clear my mind and just concentrate and everything that happened. Everything I said. Everything he said. There must be a clue in there. Something. And what else have I got to do in here. Maybe it will help Astrid and Dad if I can tell them where to look…"

So, mindful of his limited paper, he closed his eyes and reran every word he had spoken to his former partner and everything to do with the suitcase. And then, making his usually messy and loose writing small and crabbed to fit as much as possible on the page, he began to write.

oOo

"So what of Number 34?" the Governor asked. The big man with the wild black hair and beard was named Alvin Forraeder, a former convict and smuggler, a man who associated with traitors and thieves and embezzlers on a daily basis, not all of whom were imprisoned. When the Governorship of Jotunheim had come up, there were almost no takers for a job that isolated the appointee on the most desolate island in the Archipelago for 363 days a year but Alvin had jumped at the job that seemed invented for him.

Originally from the very rough community on Outcast Island, Alvin had plea-bargained his crimes of manslaughter, slavery and larceny down to a relatively short sentence by the simple expedient of betraying anyone and everyone who he had been associated with in order to minimise the dues he had to pay to the state. Dubbed 'the Treacherous' for his actions, Alvin had changed his name to reflect that-and protect himself when he emerged from prison and applied for the post. No one had really checked his forged references so he had found himself in charge of an almost impenetrable fortress with a population that no one would care about and certainly no one would miss. It hadn't been hard to gradually appoint a cadre of guards as immoral and cruel as Alvin himself was, cementing a regime as callous, cruel and brutal as it could be.

Once he was settled in, Alvin set to maximising his profits from the prison. Some of the fitter prisoners were set to work and he had kept the profits for the sacks they sewed, license plates they stamped and other small items they made under strict supervision. But of course, there were a lot of prisoners that couldn't be let out or allowed to associate because the risk of rioting or escape attempts were too high. For those men, the worst of the worst, the lowest of the low, there was only permanent solitary confinement. And among them were those condemned for terrorism, organised crime and treason. Alvin could deal with murderers, paedophiles and rapists easily enough but traitors and religious fanatics, idealists and radicalised terrorists were beyond his skills and usually proved not to be amenable to his schemes. So they were safer locked away.

And it was amusing to toy with them, allowing a few letters in and destroying random missives while not permitting a single letter to be sent out. No visiting was permitted because there was no commercial airstrip and no infrastructure to support members of the public to fly out to Freezing-To-death. And that suited Alvin fine because he didn't want any scrutiny of his regime. And he certainly didn't want a single prisoner escaping and getting word out of his depravities.

The prisoner in cell 34-number 34, the man who had been known as Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third-was unusual because he had come with instructions. The Chief Prosecutor of Berk had sent a detailed letter that the man was a dangerous subversive and a man who had assisted the most wanted terrorist and anarchist in the history of the Archipelago. The communique had detailed what the writer expected of the Governor and Alvin had bristled at the tone, treating Alvin as a mere lackey rather than the master of his own, isolated domain. And he had been intrigued at the letter so he had done some of his own digging as well, exploiting the enhanced access he possessed as a Governor in the penal system to pick through the man's records. And he had come to a conclusion that the Prosecutor probably wouldn't have wanted him to.

"He's a disappointment, to be honest," Savage said. His lieutenant was a brutal man, a murderer and member of Alvin's gang who had been transferred to Jotunheim from his original prison on Outcast and then declared dead by the Governor, who had created a fresh identity for his subordinate and promptly hired him as his assistant.

"In what way?" Alvin asked, pouring himself a generous tumbler of Scotch. He splashed another measure out for his assistant and handed him the crystal tumbler. Savage frowned.

"Skinny, sarcastic, looks defeated to be honest," he reported. "And not a lot worth taking." He handed over the Aviators Watch. Alvin looked at it with a shrug.

"No gold? Nothing…concealed?" he inquired.

"I'll have the men search him…they will enjoy that…" Savage grinned mellowly. "I've given him pencils and paper and he'll write. They always do."

"It helps," Alvin noted wisely, his gruff voice. "We need to keep them hoping…because otherwise they just give up and die. And we need some new fodder."

"I doubt he could be of much use in the Cellar," Savage commented. "He looks like a puff of wind would blow him over."

"Well, he might be of amusement in an opening bout," Alvin commented. "And if not…maybe we could sell him. When I caught sight of him, he did look pretty."

"What about the letter they sent with him?" Savage asked, draining his tumbler and helping himself to another measure. Alvin chewed his lip.

"Of course, selling him would mean keeping him on the premises," Alvin clarified. "But there are men out there who would pay for him. And some ladies, I'll wager."

"I doubt he'd co-operate," Savage noted. "He's too fresh-in all senses of the word."

"Give it a few weeks and he'll do anything for company and for extras," Alvin told him cruelly. "It gets very cold in 34 and solitary can do terrible things to a man's resolve. I doubt anyone is that stubborn that he can survive weeks and months and years alone with no company and no hope. Ensure the jailers don't exchange a word with him. But keep his pencils and paper coming. I want him to keep up enough hope to survive." Savage drained his glass once more.

"Why do you want him to survive?" he asked. "I mean, if he kills himself, you still claim the expenses for his keep and the profit…" But Alvin waved the letter.

"I was expressly told he had to remain locked up here for the remainder of his long and miserable life," he revealed. "They want him buried and lost. He needs to be forgotten and have everyone give up on him."

"But why? He's a traitor!" Savage said without any sympathy. Alvin gave a low, cruel chuckle.

"Despite what the letter says, I think the reason why they want him here is because, despite what he jury said, Hiccup Haddock is innocent," Alvin disclosed. "And the men who are guilty, the men to blame, want to make sure he never escapes to prove it. That is an opportunity-and means we need him alive because somehow, there will be a profit in this."


	3. Fading From Sight And Mind

**Three: Fading from Sight and Mind**

Time passed impossibly slowly, marked only by the increasing number of scratches on the wall above his bed and the thickening of his beard. Hiccup stubbornly kept up his exercises because he was absolutely resolved not to let then beat him and he had written out every conversation, every single moment he had spent with Eret-and every tiny detail of the day he made the fateful delivery. And then he had carefully secreted the papers in a gap under the corner of a flagstone, ensuring that no one could find them.

He had written to his father and Astrid, the words tiny and crammed onto the single sheet of paper he had been told he was permitted to send. He spoke of his conditions, of his loneliness, of his fears and hopes. He wrote that he loved them and that he missed them. And that he hoped they were well. But he couldn't write about appealing, about whether or not they had been able to persuade anyone to reopen his case because he couldn't bear to put the words on paper and imagine the response. But his heart had been lifted as he saw the little letters pushed under the door with his morning gruel. So he had grabbed the plate and wooden spoon and had sat down on his bed, ravenously eating the meagre rations and opening the envelope with trembling hands. he already recognised the bold, determined hand as that of Astrid and his mouth had stretched into a smile as he unfolded the sheet of paper.

_My Beloved Hiccup,_

_I hope this finds you…well. Yes, well is probably the best word. Not perfect because you aren't wholly well. I know you must be down and wishing and praying that we can get you out. And we are trying. Stoick and I have lobbied every member of the Council of Ministers and he has used every favour he ever had and all the goodwill he has accrued from his lifetime of service to try to get your case reopened. We have tried to see Prosecutor Grimborn but the man seems to have turned into the Scarlet Pimpernel. We seek him everywhere but he has suddenly become incredibly coy and unwilling to respond to our petitions. I have contacted my friend Camicazi, who we went to school with before she moved back to Bog Island to live with her mother. She did law and she assures me that she can prove that they cannot convict you of treason. The conviction is unsafe, for they have no proof that you knew the contents fo the case, only that you made a delivery. And delivering a package is not treason-it's a minor misdemeanour that carries a fine and revocation of your aviation license._

_As you were convicted on Berk, though, we have to work through the Berk legal system and Prosecutor Grimborn is the main block. Stoick has made a formal complaint to the Island Council and has laid down a motion to have Grimborn removed from his post-though Councillor Mildew has opposed the motion. That old goat claims that your father is unfairly targeting a dedicated and good public servant just to try to get his treacherous son off serving his just desserts. His words, not mine, by the way! That man makes my palms itch and I really want to punch him out!_

"That's Milady," Hiccup murmured his lips curling up in a smile. "A 'punch 'em first and worry about the medical bills later' kind of girl. What more could a man ask for?"

_But it means there needs to be a vote in the Full Council so we have to wait until the next full meeting with room on the agenda for the vote to get this pushed through. That's proving contentious because I think Mildew may have some allies who are slowing the process down-though I have no doubt your Dad will win the motion as soon as it is tabled. There have been so many messages of support for him that I know they will have to support him in this. And once Viggo Grimborn is removed, his deputy surely can't argue with our logic about the wrongness of your sentence and they will have to reopen your case and declare a miscarriage of justice. And then they will HAVE to bring you back from Freezing-To-Death and I can see you once more. I want you to hang onto hope, Babe, because I am never giving up on you. I just need you to not give up on us._

_Eret has claimed the whole of Night Fury Transport for himself and I have no idea what he is doing with your business. I've claimed that half of it is mine, as your partner but because we haven't married yet, my claims have been dismissed. Technically, all of your possessions are forfeit for your crimes and Eret was able to pay a nominal sum to officially claim the full ownership of the entire company and all its assets. I'm sorry, Babe-but I haven't given up either. Toothless is safe, though-I moved him to the Cove and covered him with a camouflaged cargo net before Eret could do anything with him. He did contact me and demand where he was-I suspect you were right when you worried he would try to sell him-but I told him where he could go and how he could get there! If I have my way I will never let him get his hands on Toothless. He'll be there, waiting for you when you return._

"I knew I could rely on you," he murmured, his calloused thumb stroking the page.

_I am missing you like mad, my love. The bed is cold and I long for your arms around me. I miss your snores, your fidgets, your tender kisses, the safety you make me feel. And your cooking. I fear i may poison your father if you're away much longer. I try to work but my mind is always on you, wondering what you are doing. Are you cold? Hungry? Alone?_

"All of the above," Hiccup murmured roughly.

_I wish we had gotten engaged or married…but there always seemed to be enough time to delay it until the business was profitable, until I got a promotion, until things were perfect. But what we didn't realise was that they were already perfect and maybe we were just wasting time, waiting for something that may never have happened. And I sort of wonder…why didn't you ask? Did you even want to marry me? Not that I minded because being with you, being your girlfriend was enough. But I lie there and wonder…maybe we should have talked about it. And about a family. I know you probably wanted kids…though we never really had that conversation properly either. It was one of those ones we kept putting off because I think we thought there was enough time. And I knew Stoick kept passing some very broad hints about 'grandbabies' which of course made both you and I immediately declare we were never having a family. Those ornery stubborn Viking genes! I can see he misses you desperately, because he has been with you and only you ever since you lost your Mom. Just you and him. And I think he's only just holding on because he cannot imagine losing you forever._

_And I can't either. I mean, there should always be a Hiccup and Astrid. Whatever it means…though I cannot conceive of spending my life with you locked away here. It's like missing half myself. Thor, I even dreamed of hiring smugglers and tunnelling under the prison to break you out…but that's just fanciful. I mean, how could I ever afford smugglers on my wages?_

He smiled, mentally hearing her voice speak the words and seeing her write the words.

_It's time to mail the letter to catch this week's transport across. They have said I can write weekly and I will. I promise. You are going to be sick of hearing from me, my love, because I need you to know that I am here for you. I am always here for you and I will never give up trying to clear your name. So you have to promise not to give up and trust that we will find a way to get you out._

_I love you and always will_

_Your lady,_

_Astrid_

Idly, he palmed the moisture from his face, feeling his eyes wet at reading the words from his lover. If he held the paper close, he could catch the faintest hint of her scent, of her shower gel of pine and rock flower and her perfume. And as he closed his eyes, he could see her so clearly, her nose wrinkling slightly as she smiled, her eyes sparkling and hair framing her face. Then he read the letter twice more before he folded carefully and stored it with his notes in his hiding place.

Finally, after walking across the cell and peering through the window at the swirling snows, he sat down once more on the bed and pulled out one of his precious sheets of paper. Sharpening his pencil by rubbing it against the rough flagstones, he began to write.

oOo

Time passed and letters from Astrid and his father arrived weekly. Hiccup wrote back, his words minimising the awfulness of the cell and his bleak existence. He reminisced, he talked about the future and declared his love for Astrid over and over.

_I love you, Milady, more than life itself. You are my everything, my sunshine, the air I breathe, the wind beneath my wings. And I know that sounds lame and cliched but it's true. Thor, it's true. And Gods, I was so stupid not to have the talk with you that I should have. Of course, I love you and have wanted to marry you since I was about ten. There, I said it. How sad and pathetic am I? I mean, it took me over five years to ask you to be my girlfriend and almost ten years later, I still haven't asked you to marry me. But then, I never wanted to put you under pressure and you never gave any sign you wanted to take the next step. In fact, you often said that we were still too young, that it was a big step to take. And I just agreed with you, rather than having the confidence I should have had and stating that I wouldn't mind._

_Because I wouldn't. I would have loved to stand by your side one day and put that ring on your finger. I designed it when I was sixteen and I have the design stored in my notebook. And in my heart. So when I get back, I will ask for your hand and accept what answer you give…though I really really hope the answer will be 'yes'. And yes, I would have loved kids with you-a little fierce Astrid and maybe a small Hiccup-though hopefully less clumsy and accident-prone than I was. But if you had said 'no' to that, it wouldn't have mattered. because I love you and want to spend my life with you. You are all I ever wanted. And all I ever needed. So hold on and one day, we will be together again._

But as the weeks passed, the letters stopped. Hiccup still wrote but after two months, there was no reply. It wasn't a case of one letter missing-there was a complete cessation of letters. Hiccup took to yelling through the hatch on the door, demanding that they hand over his letters and cursing and swearing at them. Then he had tried begging but to no avail. The guards remained silent and there were no more letters.

Hiccup began to lose hope, his spirits still plummeting and every ounce of determination leaching from him. He ate his food but spent his time curled up on his bed. Sometimes he wept, sometimes he cursed and sometimes he screamed that he hated his father, Astrid and everyone else who had brought him to this place. And then he had burst into tears, begging forgiveness from the absent Astrid and Stoick and the gods who had definitely completely forsaken him. He stopped washing using the weekly allowance of lukewarm water and sliver of soap he was allocated and he felt himself weakening. His hair grew shaggy and longer and his beard was wild. His skin and nails grew grimy and his clothes stained and rank. And he stopped writing, sometimes not even collecting his fresh paper and pencils when they were delivered. All he wanted was to fade away and for it all to be over.

But one especially cold night, he was aware he could hear noises through the window: several helicopters and more lights than usual, scouring across the icy clear night sky. There were steps and he sat up, wrapped in his blankets as the cell door slammed open and a trio of guards, led by Savage, burst in.

"There he is!" the lieutenant announced, his finger jabbing at the skinny shape curled in the corner. "Bring him!" Eyes widening, Hiccup fight and thrashed as he was grabbed and dragged from his cell.

"Get off me!" he yelled, fighting. "What are you doing?' The door slammed behind him and the young man stiffened, eyes darting around the stone corridor with the brilliant LED lights that incongruously kept the almost medieval space bright and shadow free. He knew the corridor was lit, of course, because he could see the little slivers of light under the door as he lay curled on his bed space or woke from nightmares but he found himself blinking and shying from the harsh glare. The guards were dragging him along with purpose and befuddled from sleep and weakened by near starvation rations, he was hopelessly overpowered. And they were taking him along a route that they had not used when they brought him in-he had memorised the route and knew they were going down, not up. So in the end, he gave up struggling, conserving what strength he had and trying to work out what was going on.

The guards dragged him down a wide spiral staircase until the ended up in the enclosed space of the old cellars, the space surprisingly warm and free of draughts. He could hear the sounds of people, the hubbub of voices and the sounds of fire crackling, the smells of food and cigar smoke. He swallowed, blinking and taking a few deep breaths as he tried to process what was happening. And then he found himself hauled into a space, surrounded on three sides by heavy wooden tables that wouldn't have been out of place in ancient Viking times, brilliant lights on the walls shining from behind the high-backed wooden thrones that silhouetted the men sitting comfortable and watching his skinny shape shoved forward and causing the young man to squint against the glare. One of the guards grabbed a handful of his unruly auburn mop and hauled his head up displaying his wary face with his wild unkept beard and his anxious emerald eyes.

"Here we have new blood, fresh meat for your edification," Governor Alvin announced, stepping forward to stand by Hiccup's pinioned shape. "Young, pretty…maybe company for someone?" He looked around hopefully but the unknown and silent men all remained silent. Alvin leaned close. "Looks like yer luck is out, 34."

"What?" Hiccup muttered.

"Yer best chance was one of them taking you for their pleasure-but seems yer ain't as pretty as I thought," Alvin told him.

"What the Hell is going on? This isn't BerkMart! I'm a prisoner, a human being, not a lot on BerkBay!" Hiccup growled as the man's dark eyes narrowed. In a second, he backhanded Hiccup and the prisoner sagged back in the ferocious grips of his guards.

"Yer don't sass me,' Alvin snapped. "Yer nothing. Not even a person. Yer number 34, occupant of the cell of that number. And when yer die, another number 34 will take your place." Hiccup spat blood and lifted his head, his emerald eyes defiant.

"My name is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third," he spat. Alvin fisted his hair-and then glared into his eyes. then he looked up.

"Plenty of fight in this one-even if he doesn't look like much," he announced, his face twisted in a cruel smile. "So if none of you fine gentleman want to have him for your personal desires, I presume you are all keen to watch him fight for his existence?"

The sounds of hands slamming on the wooden tables made Hiccup start and he looked at the shadowy men, seeing them all demanding entertainment. the room rang with deep shouts of "KILL KILL KILL!"

"You can't be serious!" he breathed as Alvin threw him back and he stumbled, almost losing his footing.

"Get this straight, boy," Alvin breathed. "Yer not in Jotunheim because anyone thinks yer capable of being rehabilitated. Yer ain't here to do macrame and basket weaving and find religion. Yer here because society wants yer locked up until yer die. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, yer already dead so what I do with you-as long as yer don't escape-don't concern anyone. So whether I sell you for one of these men to fuck or have you fight to the death for the amusement of these men…no one cares."

"I have family, friends…" Hiccup retorted.

"And how many of 'em have written you recently?" Alvin taunted him. "Yer think they still care about you. It happens to all of the prisoners sooner or later. They give up and the only way they cope is by imagining you're dead. So they stop writing. Shame. I thought yours may actually be a bit more invested." And then he grinned. "Ah well…makes it easier for me."

"I'm not fighting," Hiccup said, backing up. Alvin backed away and gestured to the guards, who hauled a shabby shape forward.

"Yer will," he said confidently. "Winner gets an extra blanket, meat daily and immunity for the next fights." Hiccup shook his head.

"What century do you think this is?" he asked sarcastically. "Eighteenth? Nineteenth? Guess what? You're a couple of hundred years outta date…"

"Well-this guy looks like he'll fight so you either fight or he'll kill you!" Alvin said as the guards released the man. "I present you, the new man versus a former favourite of many of you." He gestured to the other man who was already crouching as he and the guards backed away. "TO THE DEATH! BEGIN!"


	4. The Only Worth I Have

**Four: The Only Worth I Have**

Hiccup stared at the other man, a very skinny man in ragged clothes, his face haunted and haggard with starvation and hardship, his eyes narrowed with desperation and concentration. The man's hair was a pale brown, liberally smattered with grey and wild and unwashed like his thicket beard. The man smelled rank-though Hiccup realised he probably smelled no better-and his clothes were filthy and grey, shiny with grease and ragged at the hems and knees. There were old brown blood stains on the material and Hiccup wondered if this man had fought before and how many times. The cold grey eyes were locked on him as he backed up, finding a table at his back. The man advanced, his hands bunched and ready to attack.

"Hey, hey-we don't have to do this," he said quickly, his hands open and showing he wasn't any threat. "All we have to do is behave like civilised beings and they can't do a thing about it…" The man spat, his face twisted with scorn. Hiccup noted rotting and missing teeth.

"They can starve you, whip you, rape you," the man growled, his voice hoarse and rasping from disuse. "You don't do what they want, they make life here literally Hell. And I used to have worth to them. They sold me to men for their pleasure. And it was degrading and usually painful and disgusting…but it earned me extra food and clothes and warmth. I got books, a table, even a radio…but when I stopped being attractive to them, the luxuries dried up and life got cold and hungry and not worth living. So I fight because it's the only worth I have. It's that or freezing or starving to death. No one leaves here alive, red-so you either you play their games and make what life you have a little less hard-or you suffer. And I ain't suffering for you or anyone!"

Then he launched himself at Hiccup and bore the younger man to the ground. Taken by surprise, Hiccup felt the breath knocked out of him and he also banged his head on the ground. His vision blurred and he lay stunned as the man knelt over him and began to punch Hiccup in the head. As the first blow connected, the young man's instincts cut in and he raised his arms to try to protect himself. He caught a fist and forced it back, shoving the man off of him and rolling to his feet. His head was still spinning but he was backing away, realising that reason wouldn't work with this man. So he tried to balance his weight forward on his feet, keeping his eyes locked onto the man's face. So he was ready when the man attacked again.

Hiccup had been a small, undersized boy, bulled by his cousin and picked on at school-it had been only when he was about eighteen that his growth spurt had properly kicked in and he accelerated up to his current six foot one height. However, he had remained lightly built, though wiry and strong, his lanky form very different to his massive and powerful father but echoing his dead mother. Yet as he was bullied, his father and his uncle had both taught him to fight-his father using more conventional means and his uncle not so much. Spitelout Jorgensen was a dour man with a high opinion of himself and his stocky and strong-but dumb-son, a man who usually sneered at his small nephew but who had approached the young boy after a particularly bad session at school that his cousin had stepped in to halt. Uncle Spite had taken his nephew aside and had spent an hour teaching him every dirty trick he knew in case he was facing someone bigger and stronger than himself. And though he had never really liked his Uncle, Hiccup was thanking the man with all his heart as the other prisoner lunged again.

This time he spun, pushing the man past and into the table behind him. The watchers jerked back, recoiling from almost touching the prisoner as he sprawled across the table and shoving him away. They kept slamming their hands on the table, the repeated noise unsettling and eerie. Hiccup staggered forward and turned in time to see the man launch at him again. This time, he caught the man's arms and threw him, his legs wavering from weakness and staggering away as he backed away from the man. Though he realised the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't bring himself to attack the man, recalling the lessons his father had told him.

_Never be the aggressor, son. Never start a fight-but always end it._

So he backed away, allowing the other man to scramble up, his face furious and cursing the younger prisoner. Hiccup guessed he was probably in his fifties, maybe his father's age and he wondered how long the man had been in jail and why he had been condemned in the first place. Despite his knowledge that his own conviction was incorrect, he knew that many people in Jotunheim were men from all over the Archipelago who had committed the worst crimes and were definitely guilty.

The man hit him again and he parried, landing a hard left-handed punch across the man's face. Blood burst from the man's lip and he stumbled back, stunned by the blow. Hiccup was much stronger than he looked from a youth spent running, swimming in the lake and working with metal. He had been an engineer since he was small, fascinated by creating machines and devices and had taken courses in smithing, leather-working and woodwork. When he had finally defended himself against his cousin's bullying, he had punched Snotlout out and after had come round, Snot and Hiccup had patched up their differences and become friends.

"Please…" Hiccup breathed, seeing the man run at him again. He was exhausted from lack of food and was struggling. The man yelled and threw himself at Hiccup, this time his hands tightening around the younger man's throat. Unbalanced, he went down and the man straddled him, his face tight and twisted with concentration as he increased the pressure, inexorably crushing his throat. Staring up, Hiccup realised there was no pity there, nothing but the desire to kill the other man and make his life just a little easier.

He lashed out, his arm swinging round and impacting solidly on the side of the man's head. The pressure didn't let up and Hiccup could see his vision greying, but he repeated the blow and this time, the man did let up the pressure and Hiccup shoved him off, crawling away and rubbing his throat. He could hear the man stumbling up behind him and he tensed, throwing himself forward and bearing the man down, making sure he was beneath him. They rolled, punching at each other and Hiccup let his instincts take over, literally fighting for his life. Until the man finally broke free, stumbling away. He snatched a knife from the table and turned to face the younger man, his bloodied face twisted in a triumphant leer.

"Finally," he breathed, slashing out. Dancing back, Hiccup managed to avoid the first couple of slashes, ducking and diving but he gasped as he felt a line of fire across his arm and jumped back, clutching at the cut. He could feel blood well from the wound and saw the red edging the blade. Taking a deep breath, he offered a swift prayer to the Gods and then threw himself forward, grabbing the blade and wrestling with the man. They staggered back and forth, the tip of the knife moving closer and closer to Hiccup's body-then away and towards the man's hollow, heaving middle. Gritting his teeth, Hiccup propelled them sideways and slammed against the table, slamming the man's hand three times against the table with all his might until the knife skittered free. Glancing up as the man wrestled with him and pressed him back, he met cold dead eyes with black, soulless pupils like the eyes of a shark, buried in a sallow-skinned, scarred face with a hook nose and dark hair. Then the other prisoner wrenched Hiccup away and the momentary contact was lost. The man was scrabbling for the knife but Hiccup grabbed him and this time, he slammed the man down onto the table, his head impacting on the iron-hard oak with sickening crack. But, hazed with desperation, Hiccup slammed the man's head once more against the wood, dropping him and staggering back, his entire body heaving for breath.

Immediately, the guards raced forward, snatching up the knife and restraining Hiccup. Savage walked forward and checked the prisoner. Pressing a finger to the man's neck, he paused-then made a slicing motion across the man's neck.

"A KILL!" Alvin roared. "And an excellent bout! I hope this satisfied your bloodlust…" There was another bout of the slamming of hands on the table as the Governor burst out laughing. "I thought not," he chuckled as he waved the guards to haul the exhausted and bleeding Hiccup away. "Now, for our next bout, we have a couple of more impressive specimens who will provide a more brutal battle…"

Listing, Hiccup stopped listening as he was hauled up the stairs, almost dragged and roughly manhandled, He barely realised that he was back in his corridor until they opened the cell door-he could see the black numerals 34 on the blank metal-and then he was tossed in. The door slammed shut and suddenly, he was alone in the cold dark, his body hurting, his neck bruised and his arm leaking blood. And he felt incredibly ashamed and sick that he had taken a life, that he had killed a man even though he had been forced to fight to save his own life. A dry sob choked through him and he painfully crawled to his bed, tearing the sleeve of his shirt to make a strip bandage to stop the bleeding from the slice in his arm. Then he curled up tight, wrapped his blankets around his body and went to sleep.

oOo

He awoke late for it was already light and the meal was lying in a new plate just inside the hatch of the door. His throat felt hard and he was conscious of it while breathing, grimacing as the aches and pains kicked in and zinged as he moved. Grimacing, he levered himself up to his hands and knees, seeing the makeshift bandage heavily stained with blood and stiff and then he wearily stumbled over to gather his jug of water-which seemed to be bigger and his plate-which was holding a generous portion of what looked like oatmeal porridge rather than thin gruel. Wearily, he spilled a little water into his hand to scrub his face and then took a long drink, slaking his thirst. Automatically, he scooped the porridge into his mouth and realised it was lukewarm. Eyes widening, he wolfed the rest down, swallowing the closest he had got to hot food for months and sitting back, his shrunken stomach full. Sighing, he wrapped a blanket around his aching body and tried to relax…and then the realisation hit him.

He had earned the hot food by killing the other man.

Instantly, he felt sick but he chewed his lip and swallowed hard, knowing he couldn't afford to lose the precious nourishment. He had paid for that food with his blood and what was done could not be undone. He knew the other man would have no qualms in enjoying the fruits of killing Hiccup so he knew that it was illogical to feel so bad for killing a man who had tried very hard to end him. But that was who he had been raised to be: a decent, honest, honourable human being. And none of that mattered because he had been wrongfully convicted of treason and had been condemned and abandoned to this hell to die. And no one seemed to care.

He shook himself. He knew that his father and Astrid cared, that they would still be doing everything humanly possible to get him free. The lack of letters was probably a ploy by Alvin to try to break his spirit. Maybe they had intercepted his letters and they thought he wasn't responding. But he knew his father and his love would never abandon him. They would fight to their dying days to clear his name and get him out of Jotunheim.

And in the meantime, he had to survive. So he swallowed the bile in his throat and drank the water and then wrapped himself up warmly and tried to recover from the fight. And prayed to the gods that in surviving, he wouldn't lose the man he was.

oOo

Time passed and his new improved rations helped. In the morning he had a large helping of nourishing porridge and in the evening it was meat broth and bread. The first time the meat broth had been slopped into his plate, he had almost started crying, seeing the steam curl from genuinely hot food and he had wolfed it down urgently, desperate to savour the sensation of hot food warming his battered body. And afterwards, he had curled up and slept well for the first time in months, imagining Astrid in his arms and his father smiling as they were all together once more. And he knew that they were still fighting for him as well.

Realising his life was now at stake, he resumed his exercises, trying to strengthen his weakened body and sitting down and relaxing, meditating to recall every word his father and uncle had said to him about fighting. The guards took him out of the cell and forced him to run up and down the corridor to try to strengthen his stamina several times a day and he was grateful of the exercise and change of scene. As he worked at sit ups and push ups, he remained focussed by reciting names of the Chiefs of Berk, working his way through the scientific laws he had learned, reciting the Periodic table, saying the poems that he had read to Astrid when they went on picnics…and picturing her beautiful face as she lay by his side.

Weeks passed and there was still no word, no sign that anyone outside even knew he was alive. He felt his spirits flag-but as he looked out of the window and saw the snow pile up as Devastating Winter shrouded the island, he wondered if there was a disruption to the post as well. His cell was frigid but he was given another blanket and he kept moving to remain warm. He continued to mark the days and as it approached six months in the cell and three months from the day when he had last fought, the guards seemed more excited and he guessed the fight was approaching. So he rested and was ready when the door of his cell was opened and he was led out.

This time, he was more alert and he carefully noted the way down to the cellars-just in case he ever got the opportunity to escape. And when he was there, he was less shocked and intimidated, though his heart was galloping and his breaths were coming in small anxious pants. Because he knew he would be fighting for his life once more. And this time, he carefully lowered his eyes to make sure he wasn't looking directly into the lights, allowing him to snatch a few details here and there of the men attending the fights. Once again, the powerful shape with the long black hair and the soulless black eyes was there, sitting back in his black outfit, his hands flat on the table. There were others, men who smelled of expensive cologne and even more expensive Cuban cigars, men in watches that cost tens of thousands of dollars and silk suits that cost more than an average Berkian earned in a year. And heavy chains of gold hung around every neck or wrist.

He was matched against another skinny, wiry man who looked scruffy and desperate and Hiccup felt a horrible tide of guilt flood through him. He had earned himself relatively good rations and warmth for his last fight-and now he looked in better shape than the opponent. But not much and he knew that desperation and the desire to live could overcome any minor deficiencies in physical condition. So when the fight started, he watched the man and was prepared for the attack. And this time, he measured his opponent, watching how he attacked and preparing his counter so when he switched to being the aggressor, he put all his energy into the attack. And when the knife was thrown into the ring, he made sure he grabbed it first.

The other man-a scrawny man with a tattoo on his arm that identified him as a member of a gang, though his lined face and grey hair told Hiccup that had been decades earlier-fought furiously and as they went down, Hiccup maintained a ferocious grip on the knife. He knew his life depended on it and as they rolled, he made sure he landed on top, bringing the knife up and plunging it hard through the man's chest, the keen blade sliding through the grey grimy material and wasted flesh through into the man's heart. His eyes widened and for a moment, there was a flicker of gratitude before the light ebbed and they closed.

Breathing hard, Hiccup sagged, releasing the knife and clambering off the dead man.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I am so sorry. But at least you are free. And I think you know that. I hope you are at peace. Because I'm not."

The audience were cheering and their hands slamming on the tables in appreciation of an efficient kill but Hiccup felt sick. No matter how much he had prepared himself, he had killed a man, this time deliberately in order to survive, to allow himself to hang on for a little longer to allow his father and girlfriend to lodge the appeal and get him out of Jotunheim.

"Any time, guys, any time," he muttered as he was taken back to the cell. "Because one day, it's going to be me with the knife in my heart. Please hurry. Please get me out of here before I lose myself."


	5. From The Heights To The Depths

**Five: From the Heights to the Depths**

Hiccup began to measure his time in fights. He still diligently kept his calendar on the wall, scratching days in banks of seven and marking the dates of his fights and looking for the pattern. As it turned out, Fight Night happened every two to three months with no absolute pattern but Hiccup kept himself ready. Every time, he ended up bruised and he gained a few more scars but whether it was luck or determination, he managed to survive with everything more or less intact. And he used Astrid and his father as his motivation, as the reasons he had to survive. It no longer mattered that he got no letters because he still had their old letters that he had hidden and when he needed to bolster his courage once more, he pulled them out and read them, hearing the words in his head and feeling their love wrap around him.

His opponents were gradually getting more serious. He had fought several men who were from the gangs, men with tattoos and piercings, men with scars from previous gang fights and men who were considerably more dangerous than he was. But he remained quick on his feet and focussed, using everything his father told him and a selection from the repertoire of tricks his Uncle had shared with him-though he tried to keep his best moves back. Some sixth sense was warning him that these men were working up though the ranks and he would start facing much tougher opponents any time soon. And he needed something as a last resort if he was hopelessly overmatched and facing his death. But somehow, he had kept on winning and every time, he thanked the gods and prayed that his father and Astrid would rescue him soon.

Until he had been a prisoner for just past three years. Three years in the cell, three years of almost total solitude. Three years of no letters, no communication, no sign that anyone was coming for him or that there was any hope of reprieve. And while a small part of him was still clinging to hope, the larger part was telling him that it must be because there was no hope, because the appeals had been rejected and he was condemned without any prospect of release. And maybe, they had done what he had asked and moved on after all, realising that there was no hope and no point in clinging to a forlorn dream. Maybe this as it and they had accepted that he was lost, that he was dead, as Alvin had said. That there was nothing left to cling to because as far as the outside world was concerned, he had died the moment he passed through the gates of Jotunheim.

When he was called to Alvin's office, he had been curious and for a second, his hopes had risen, his heart fluttering with the prospect that maybe…this was his time. But his hopes were dashed just as swiftly as he saw Alvin's smug face. He gestured to the hard wooden stool in front of his desk and warily, Hiccup had sat down.

"I 'ave received an offer for you, number 34," he said without preamble. "All those victories 'ave caught the eye of one of me best customers and he has asked for you to be delivered to him for his pleasure."

Hiccup's eyes widened and his jaw dropped.

"I…you…what?" he managed gruffly, his voice hoarse from disuse. Alvin smiled.

"I 'ave a very rich and very dangerous man who wants to fuck you," he said simply. Shaking his head urgently, Hiccup felt himself drawing back.

"Helheim, no!" he said vehemently. "No. I-I can't!"

"Yes you can," Alvin told him simply. "You just bend over and take it. Bite yer lip, groan at the right moments and do exactly what he says to you. And if you do well, he will pay for treats and food and warmth and who knows? If he _really_ likes how you behave, he may take you away from here completely as one of his harem. After all, who would know? Everyone here is dead."

For the briefest of moments, Hiccup considered the words-really, genuinely considered them, because he was a man who was losing all hope of being rescued and leaving the prison in any way other than in a coffin. What had he got to lose now? All he was facing was a series of fights to the death until the one which took his life. Or maybe he would be injured and they would stop him fighting and he would go back to freezing and starving in solitude until he died of starvation, cold or some disease. And what use was clinging to the image of Astrid, his beautiful, ferocious girlfriend if he was dying here? If he would never see her again?

But what Alvin was suggesting was…to whore himself out. To give himself away for some hot food and maybe a fresh set of clothes. And maybe the chance to dodge the fight that would finally end his life. He doubted anyone would rescue him now and maybe, this was a better option than risking his life every few weeks. But then…what would happen when he was dropped by the client? He would end up like the first man he fought, desperate and angry and bitter and determined to kill anyone for a taste of the comforts he had once enjoyed and which he had now lost because time had passed him by.

But time _was_ passing him by. Three years had already cycled by and he remained locked in his stone box on an island uninhabited because it was so inhospitable. His friends and family hadn't bothered to contact him for almost three years and there was no sign that anyone would ever come to free him. And if he was taken off Freezing-To-Death, then maybe he would stand a better chance of escaping and making his way back to Berk. And when he was there, he would get his hands on Eret and force that lying treacherous bastard to confess that it was his suitcase to deliver and that Hiccup was completely innocent. And gods, when he got his hands on RKG, he would make him regret the hour of his conception because he would treat the man to ten times the torments and miseries Hiccup had suffered.

"Are yer sure?" Alvin asked pointedly. "If yer turn 'im down, he won't ask again. No one will…"

Hiccup took a deep breath.

"I'll meet him…" he said slowly, closing his eyes. "I'll meet him and talk to him."

Alvin gave a nasty chuckle.

"I think talking is the last thing on his mind," he said.

oOo

Without preamble, he was taken up the stairs to the top level of the fortress and the guards without any gentility stripped him and forced him into a hot steaming bath, laced with oils. And he almost went into shock as he found himself suddenly warm. His hands and feet felt as if they were burning, so unused to warmth after so long in the bitter cold. Slowly, breathing hard, he sat down in the hot water and cautiously began to clean himself. It was like some sort of half-forgotten dream that he hadn't even allowed himself to consider. But as he sluiced himself off and turned his attentions to his hair and face and beard, he found himself longing, just for once, to be clean.

So he scrubbed and scrubbed until he thought he might finally be clean. And then his rinsed his hair and then used the safety razor that he had been left and carefully shaved off his beard. For once, he wanted to be the man that Astrid had left-though thinner and more scarred-and he managed to trim his hair as well, still messy but sort of at the length it had been when he first arrived. Finally, he got out, using the thick towels lying ready on the stool and drying himself carefully. He winced as he checked the scar on his arm, seeing the ugly line puckered by the hot water and sighing: it was a reminder of why he had to fight for his safety, no matter how bad he felt about the actions he had to take, the deaths he caused to survive.

The guards watched stonily as he pulled on fresh rust red shirt and skinny fit brown jeans, then pulled his boots back on. He looked over at them and nodded.

"I'm ready," he murmured. The guards grabbed his arms and escorted him out of the room, along a corridor that was carpeted and lit by much softer illumination. They took him to a large door covered with studded green leather and knocked.

"Enter!" a gruff voice growled and the guards opened the door and escorted the tall young man in. Hiccup took a shuddering breath and then stopped as he saw who was facing him: the man with the soulless black eyes and black dreadlocks framing his scarred, sallow face with the hook nose and the cruel mouth, a braid of beard hanging beneath his chin. The man was huge, almost the size of his father and draped in a black silk dressing gown, brocaded in gold with naked legs visible under the hem. And he realised as he looked at the man that his left arm was a prosthetic.

And now he saw him clearly, Hiccup recognised the man-as the terrorist he had been accused of supporting and consorting with.

His eyes widened at the bitter, brutal irony of the thought and he almost backed away-but his instinct at self-preservation kept him standing where he was, though his breathing accelerated. Nonchalantly, the man lifted a heavy glass in his right hand and sipped a dark pinot noir.

"Yes, you are very pretty now we've cleaned you up," he said in his gravelly voice, his eyes lingering far too long and indecently low. He placed the glass down and walked forward, his right hand rising to stroke Hiccup's hair. The younger man froze, forcing himself to remain still as the man's rough fingers carded his hair and then stroked his cheek. "Unusual hair…and those eyes are very pretty."

"Thank you," Hiccup breathed, not moving a muscle. Drago leaned closer, his yellow teeth revealed as his thin lips stretched in a predatory smile.

"I wanted you when I first saw you fight-but I needed to make sure that you were worth the effort," he breathed, his fingers sliding down Hiccup's neck. The steady exploration of the prisoner continued as his hand slid lower and lower and Hiccup felt his breathing accelerate. Every instinct that had warned him against the encounter was screaming at him to get out…but as Drago's hand caressed his waist, he knew there was no getting out of this alive. Even the small safety razor head he had sneaked into his boot wouldn't be enough to stop this man with the guards around.

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint," he said softly as Drago smiled more cruelly.

"No-you are definitely pretty enough," he said. "I've been looking for fresh meat for my larder. You look young and strong enough to maybe satisfy me." He smiled. "Think of this as your audition, boy. You do well, and I'll head back home with you are my side." He stroked his thumb along Hiccup's lower lip, before working the digit into the younger man's mouth. "Just think: no more fights, no more cold, plenty of food and warmth and…attention. All you have to do is share my bed."

Hiccup looked into the dead eyes and ignored the fluttering in his stomach and the fear in his heart. Hating himself, he nodded slightly. Drago looked up at the guards and he pulled his hand back and gripped Hiccup's waist tightly.

"Leave!" he growled. "I'll call if I need you." And as the door slammed shut, Hiccup swallowed the bile in his throat, then leaned forward and kissed him.

oOo

Alvin was sitting in his office, satisfied with the programme for the evening and already mentally counting the profits for the entertainment. He had two extras for the evening above his regulars, wealthy men who had specifically come from Berk on the recommendation of others to see the forbidden spectacle of men fighting to the death.

"Not so stuck up that you won't be yelling for blood," he muttered with satisfaction, his thick fingers playing over the keyboard and checking that the funds were all safely transferred into his encrypted offshore account before the show started. And then he sat back, sipping his Scotch and already planning the next event.

A knock sounded at the door and it slammed open before the Governor could even open his mouth to invite the person in-but then he rose to his feet in shock as he saw the massive shape of Drago Bludvist stamp in, flanked by two of his minders. Looking for his guards, Alvin nodded and Savage slipped in, standing behind the Governor just to remind the Most Wanted Terrorist in the Archipelago who was in charge in Jotunheim.

"Please sit," he said and invited Bludvist to sit on the padded leather chair that was sitting opposite the desk. Alvin always made sure there there was a luxurious chair in his office for elevated guests, instead of the hard wooden stool he kept for guards and prisoners. As he watched with forced nonchalance, the man lowered himself slowly, his eyes narrow and dark with anger. "How were your encounter, my Lord?" he asked as an afterthought.

"He's pretty-and he tried very hard…considering he was a virgin," Bludvist commented cruelly. "I was satisfied-and I am certain he didn't enjoy the experience. But I needed to make sure." Alvin frowned.

"Make sure of what?" he asked guilelessly. Drago banged his fist onto the desk, causing everything to jump.

"That the man who could betray my contacts on Berk is still alive and available to be spirited off this island and into the hands of one of my enemies!" Bludvist roared. "I could have bought him and taken him away-and then I would have made him talk!"

"I would never have allowed him off the island," Alvin babbled urgently. "My Lord, I would never jeopardise such a valuable contact as yourself…"

"Then prove it!" Drago roared.

"You want him dead?" Alvin guessed. "Savage-go to his cell now and…"

"No need," Drago said, then leaned forward. He picked up Alvin's pen and turned the paper round, his cold black eyes flicking down the list of fights. Savagely, he crossed out two names and placed an arrow. "This is the order." Alvin's eyes widened.

"But he's not ready to fight the champion," Alvin protested. "I have a sequence planned out that will attract more wagers and…"

"And how much money do I pay you for the pleasure of travelling to the most Godsforsaken place on the entire planet to watch a couple of men who should have been executed perform the duty on one another at an inconvenient hour?" Drago roared.

"Plenty-but for this, I was really going to market the matchup…"

"Then I will pay you triple for the fight," Drago snarled and beckoned. Alvin punched the amended fee into his machine and offered the thumb reader which the Terrorist pressed his thick thumb onto without hesitation. Alvin glanced at the screen as a ping sounded and the number in his account further increased.

"Yer wish is me command," Alvin said in a servile voice. "Can I have refreshments brought to your room?" Drago rose.

"Wagyu fillet, blue, with string fries and corn and a 1953 Chateau Lafitte. And fresh sheets on the bed-the current ones are stained."

"I'll send my men immediately," Alvin told him. "The programme begins in one hour."

oOo

He tried not to think about it, tried to expunge it all from his mind but all he could think of and see and hear and smell was…him. And feel. Especially feel. Gods, he had been a complete and utter muttonhead, imagining that he could do this. It was a wild instinct born of total despair but now he realised he was worth more than that…and that even escape wasn't worth that price.

He curled on his side. He hurt. The man had deliberately hurt him…and all of Alvin's seductive words had meant nothing because Hiccup was the one paying the price and shedding the blood. He knew he was due to fight and he had been hurt. It had been stupid, senseless, desperate because he was giving up. He was on the verge of giving up and now…he had allowed himself to be harmed when in a couple of hours, he could be fighting for his life. Drago hadn't delivered and instead of staying, instead of the hope of escape and safety from fighting, he had been dismissed once he had been throughly fucked by the brutal man. He just hoped that he could muddle his way through and recover…because if not…it was over anyway.

He was ready when the door opened, his determined mask back in place and back straight. The guards were grinning and nudging one another, which really didn't fill him with much confidence as they walked the now familiar way down to the cellars and the ring. But this time, when he arrived at the ring, there was already another prisoner there, a large and powerful man with muscles bulging on his bare arms and tattoos all over his visible skin. There were piercings in both ears, nose and lips and his head was shaved. And he topped Hiccup by well over half a head, as well as being almost twice as wide.

"And now we come to the final match of the evening, a bout for the ages," Alvin announced, his yellow grin obvious in the light. "To my right, I have number eighty five, the man who has thrilled you with so many brutal bouts over the last couple of years and who remains undefeated and your champion. And to my left, I have the challenger, number thirty four, who has been building over the last months and is now facing the challenger. This bout is to the death." He backed away. "BEGIN!"

Hiccup immediately scuttled sideways and backed up, trying to get a bead on the other prisoner. This man was clearly at the top of Alvin's fighting food chain and he was used to killing…and by the looks of him, revelled in it. He was milking the crowd, his face twisted in an obscene smile of delight as he turned a full three-sixty before he assumed a fighting crouch and prepared for the bout. Hiccup glanced round, looking for anything he could use-and his breath froze. For sitting amid the usual patrons, who Hiccup could now recognise and next to Drago, who was watching with a cruel smile on his face, were two men he hadn't seen before. One was a dapper man with a silver suit, garish pink shirt and cravat, grey-smattered hair and beard and dark, cold eyes-and beside him was Eret in a deep cream suit with dark chocolate shirt open at the neck. All three men ere fixated on Hiccup-and all looked as if they wanted him to lose.

He almost missed the lunge and was borne to the floor with sickening ease. He felt the air knocked from his body and a heavy weight pin him as the man drew a meaty fist back and ploughed it into his face. His vision greyed at the impact as the first boos sounded, the guests dissatisfied with the fare on show. And Hiccup knew that it wasn't a match in any meaning of the word: he had been sent to the slaughter.

And then he slammed his knee up twice, the second impact achieving the desired aim and causing the man to turn puce. Hiccup shoved him off and rolled away, scrambling to his feet and backing away, his fists raised. In a straight fight, he probably didn't stand a chance. So he had to make sure it wasn't a straight fight.

The man lunged at him again and this time, he was ready, diving and rolling to sweep the man's legs from under him, then kicking him in the face as he scrambled away. Twice more, he repeated the move before 85 grabbed his leg and threw him sideways, slamming back against the table and winding himself. He stumbled up-but back into a fist. Staggering sideways, he ducked under another swipe and then felt arms wrap around him, immobilising him and tightening around his chest. Immediately, he slammed his head back twice into the man's face, the satisfying crunch of bone telling Hiccup he had broken the man's nose. But as he released Hiccup, a fist slammed into the auburn-haired man's chest and he cried out in pain, sharp pain lancing through him as he tried to breathe.

The clatter of the knife skittering into the centre of the ring was almost lost amid the roaring and urging of the audience, all pretence at civility lost in their bloodlust. Eret was on his feet, baying for his former friend's death and Drago's lips were pulled back in a shark's leer of satisfaction at seeing the younger man facing his death. Hiccup looked up, teeth gritted and he threw himself at the other prisoner, desperate to stop the man grasping the knife and gaining a lethal advantage. But as he reached him, 85 closed his hands around Hiccup's neck, swiftly beginning to throttle the life out of him. Clawing wilding at the iron grip closing around his throat, Hiccup looked up into pitiless eyes and then gouged them viciously, knowing it was his only chance. The champion bellowed in pain, still tightening the grip until Hiccup could manage to ram his thumbs into both the man's eyes, pushing so hard he could feel blood running over his hands.

The grip around his throat released and Hiccup collapsed to his knees, gasping huge desperate gulps of air, blinking to try to focus and get to the knife-and then he screamed as a foot slammed down onto his left ankle. The champion, his face hideous with blood and his head inclined so he could see with his one intact eye, gave a bloody grimace of triumph as he lifted his leg and slammed his boot down again onto Hiccup's left lower leg. His scream drowned everything out and the audible crunch of bone coincided with an explosion of pain that almost overwhelmed Hiccup's determination. His head spun, his vision was washed with red and he could feel his consciousness drifting as he stretched his arm out and his hand closed on the hilt of the knife.

"That ain't gonna help yer," the man breathed as he closed his arm around Hiccup's neck. "Not when I snap your neck." The arm around his neck jerked his head back and he immediately felt the strain…and then his arm swung up and the knife cut deep into the man's arm, severing tendons. The champion bellowed, the grip loosening as Hiccup swivelled his head slightly so he could sight the man.

"Gotta be alive to snap my neck," Hiccup breathed and slammed the knife straight into his remaining eye. The champion jerked as the blade slid into his brain and collapsed like an unstrung puppet.

Breathing hard and completely overwhelmed with pain, Hiccup lay still for a long moment and then he braced himself and shoved the dead weight off of him. Every molecule of his body hurting, he forced himself to his knees and raised an arm…to almost total silence.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I win."

Alvin stepped forward and rolled his eyes then clubbed the young man unconscious. He shook his head as Hiccup measured his length on the cold stone ground.

"Looks like no one will do what they're told," he grumbled, looking over at Drago with a shrug of apology. The Terrorist's face was a mask of fury but Alvin knew that neither man believed it possible that the skinny auburn-haired young man could possibly have beaten the champion. Then he turned brashly to his audience who were slamming their hands on the tables in approval at the savage spectacle. "Well, that was an amazing bout and I have never seen such astonishing conclusion. You have to applaud the astonishing grit and never-say-die attitude of the challenger…but alas, this is the end of both their careers. 85 is dead and 34 is crippled and will almost certainly die of his injuries. So next time…we have a match for a new champion. Mark the date in your diaries, friends…this one's going to be a doozy!"

As Alvin continued his monologue, two guards dragged the limp and beaten shape of Hiccup away, back to his cell. Dumped there, one of the guards sighed and lifted the unconscious shape before laying him on his bed and carefully tucking him in with his blankets. His fellow at the door snorted.

"He's worthless," he reminded his friend but the man shook his head, his green eyes thoughtful.

"He fought very bravely," he told his friend clearly. "And he won me great odds in the sweepstake. No one gave him a chance…but I've watched him since I got here. He's determined and brave and he never gives up." His friend shrugged, shaking his head at the other guard's words.

"It's done now," he said. "He'll never fight again. And that broken leg will probably fester anyway. No matter that he won the bout, he's still lost. He'll be pitched over the cliff within the week."


	6. Lost and Found

**Six: Lost and Found.**

Waking in his cell, Hiccup was disorientated for a second until all the pain kicked in and he curled up. The throbbing in his head and the stab of his broken ribs was dwarfed by the agony from his smashed and displaced ankle. Some kind soul had put him on his bed but he was in pain and for a long moment, he wondered why he had fought so hard to continue being a prisoner. Why he had killed a man to remain a locked in the same cell until he died anyway.

Glancing over at the door, his heart plummeted as he saw that his plate seemed to be filled with gruel, his privileges revoked after his failure to lose the previous day. They had left him the blankets because if they had wanted him to freeze, they could just have pitched him into the prison yard but his food rations were back to what they had been at the start and something inside him resented that he had fought and struggled so hard for a privilege which had arbitrarily been taken away…even though there was no one to complain to.

He dragged himself over to collect the food and then he crawled back to the bed and curled up once more, trying not to jar his injuries any more than he had to. The previous day, he had been preparing for another bout…and then he was given to Drago Bludvist and he had made the worst decision to co-operate in the hope that the man may help him. The man whose name was the very reason he had been condemned to die in this hellhole. But instead, despite his sacrifice, he had been matched against the champion in a clear plan to kill him. And it looked like Drago had made sure that Eret was there to watch. His hatred for his former friend hardened into an implacable resolve to repay Eret for everything he had put Hiccup through-even if it took the rest of Hiccup's life.

Over the next couple of days, the pain worsened in his ankle and he began to feel unwell, his head aching and body hot and cold. He felt sick and lightheaded and swiftly ran out of water as he gulped the ration almost as soon as it arrived to try to slake his thirst. But it was only on the fourth day, when he collapsed by the door that his guards realised what was happening.

"He's really sick," the younger guard said. The man was a newcomer, only a few months in, and his fellow guessed he hadn't yet cottoned onto the plan that everyone in Jotunheim was a lifer, condemned to spent the remainder fo their days within its walls. Only the Governor and the guards got to leave.

"And that is our business why?" the older guard asked him dryly.

"He's a human being," the younger guard said, his buff shape tensed and clearly exercised about the situation.

"He's a convict," the older guard said. "This one, 34, is a traitor. Condemned of being in league with Bludvist!"

"The same Bludvist that set him up to die?" the younger guard shot back. "How _exactly_ does that work?"

"Not our business either, Dag," the older guard told him dismissively. "Traitors, murderers, gangsters…how would we know why they do what they do? Bludvist may have decided the man outlived his usefulness…"

"And why would he worry anyway, Vorg?" the younger man asked thoughtfully. "He's buried here and would remain here, out of contact and dead to the world. Why go to such lengths to kill a dead man?" The older man clapped his companion on the shoulder.

"You're over-thinking this, Dag!" he told his friend. "Maybe he just wanted amusement. Maybe he wasn't a good enough fuck. Who knows?

"And you're okay with this?" Dag asked, his green eyes troubled. The man shrugged.

"These men have all committed unpardonable crimes and are condemned to die here," Vorg commented. "Why does it matter how they die? This place is the backside of beyond. Why shouldn't we have a little fun?"

"Not my idea of fun," Dag pointed out.

"Though not above wagering on the outcomes," Vorg teased him. Dag folded his arms.

"I'm not a saint," he shot back. "Just a guy trying to do the best he can." And then he sighed. "We have to get him help." Vorg grabbed his shoulder.

"You can't."

"But we have a Medical Officer and we really should take him to her…"

"Dag-he's not to leave his cell. Ever. The Governor was very clear. You defy him on that and he has men here who won't hesitate to kill you," Vorg told him in a low voice. Dag pulled away, his eyes narrowing.

"Then we bring her to him," he said stubbornly. "Look, this guy doesn't make sense. He was convicted and there are instructions about him. Why him? None of the others have special instructions! It feels wrong."

"Dag-everything here is wrong," Vorg told him gruffly. "This place is run like some nineteenth century place of torture. Selling convicts for sex, fighting them to death, staving them, denying them any medical help, killing them on a whim…nothing here sounds like a twenty-first century penal institution!"

"That's true," Dag agreed. "But we have to be better than that. I think he is better than that. I mean, he thanks us every time we deliver his food and water. That's how we knew he was ill…no 'thank you'." Vorg sighed.

"What does it matter if he dies now or in twenty years after suffering isolation, misery and despair?" he asked.

"I believe that where there's life, there's hope," Dag told him calmly. "And he deserves a chance because he fought for his life. He wanted to live. We should ensure that his wishes are honoured." Then he scowled. "And he fought and won. Why have we taken away his privileges?"

"Because he's never going to fight again," Vorg told him with an exasperated sigh. "He can't be granted fighter food and…"

"He earned that by his victory," Dag argued passionately. "Look-he deserves to keep that until the next fight when he'll no longer be a fighter."

"Al would never sanction it," Vorg told him flatly.

"Al would never know," Dag told him seductively. "And that poor bastard will need all the help he gets to survive." Shaking his head, Vorg looked at his younger companion. Sometimes, amid his jaded and cold existence, he forgot that some people were still idealistic and decent and that a normal person would expect basic medical aid to be offered, even to prisoners who were expected the spend the rest of their life in jail. And a small part of him was glad that Dag was here to remind him of what the rest of the world would expect.

"I'll get the MO if you stand guard," he said gruffly. "But he is not to leave the cell, okay? I'm not having Savage and Al's goon squad slit my throat for disobeying that order, okay?"

"Deal," Dag said, turning and standing with his back to the cell door. "I'll be waiting."

oOo

The Medical Officer was a temporary replacement for the usual man, who was off on his annual month-long leave. This substitute was an elderly Berkian retired medic who never spoke, scowled at most people and was a small, hunch-backed woman who squinted knowingly at anyone who sought her services. Vorg suspected she had been told no one would ever need her skills but when he explained why he was here, she grabbed her bag, another bag, a surgical kit and several vials of medicine and then scuttled past him.

Dag yelped when she arrived at the cell door and crashed her heavy medical bag into his ankle and then she scowled at him until he opened the cell door. Checking with Vorg, the younger guard opened the door and then stood aside as the MO wandered in, her long grey braids swinging as she moved and then she knelt by the unconscious shape of Hiccup. Frowning, she rested her hand against the prisoner's scorching forehead and she shook her head, tutting audibly before gesturing for the guards to carry the prisoner back to his stone bed shelf. Shaking his head, Vorg helped Dag carry him back, wincing as he felt the man moan with pain and struggle weakly. Once they had placed him back on his bed, they stepped back as the MO stepped forward.

Both men winced as she uncovered his broken leg, gagging at the stench as the festering wound was uncovered. The snapped bone had broken the skin and it was obvious that infection had gotten in. Shaking her head, the old medic pulled out a syringe and injected painkiller, antibiotics and then a sedative…and then she tightened a tourniquet just below his knee. Looking up, she beckoned the men closer. Vorg shook his head.

"Oh no…" he said determinedly.

"We have to hold him down," Dag realised and grabbed his arm.

"I ain't no medical orderly," Vorg said flatly.

"He'll die if she doesn't amputate," Dag guessed and the medic nodded absently, ripping the pants leg open to the knee and sloshing iodine over the festering flesh. He walked over and rested his arms across the young prisoner's chest. Then he looked up at his friend. Vorg sighed and then came to kneel by the young man, pressing his thighs down against the bed. He looked over at the medic, who was laying her instruments out and pulling on gloves.

"Do your worst," he muttered. "And pray that Al never finds out about this."

oOo

Hiccup woke in pain, his head muzzy and body hurting. The light was hurting his eyes and his memory seemed to be fractured with nightmares, with pain and fear and images of fighting and brutality and death. His brow furrowed and he tried to move but his leg hurt fiercely…though less than it had. And though he felt unwell, something told him that he was better than he had been.

Slowly, he jammed an elbow under him and he managed a slumped sitting position. He was shocked to find a metal cup of water by his bed and he gratefully drank the tepid fluid, sighing in relief as he realised how thirsty he was. And then he tensed as he heard steps approach and he tried to cringe back as the cell door creaked and then opened-to admit a small elderly woman.

Her eyes widened as she saw he was awake and she managed a slight smile, hobbling in using a walking stick and nodding as she saw him. The door closed behind her and she crouched by his side then lifted the blankets, revealing something that stole his breath and felt like a dagger to the heart: his left leg was gone below the mid-shin. There was a neat bandage in place, covering the wound and he could see the skin was a pale reddish-pink just at the top of the dressing. He inhaled sharply.

"What-what happened?" he asked hoarsely as she looked up with sympathy in her eyes. She sighed, then fished a chalk out of her bag and scratched a few words on the stone floor.

YOUR BROKEN ANKLE WAS COMPOUNDED. INFECTION SET IN. YOU WOULD DIE IF WE DID NOT AMPUTATE.

He blinked and felt his throat tighten. He had known the break was very bad-it had felt like the worst pain ever-but he hadn't looked at it because he couldn't even contemplate moving the injury-and he had assumed no one would treat it anyway. He sighed.

"Why did you assume I wanted not to die?" he asked hollowly.

YOU FOUGHT FOR YOUR LIFE. A MAN WHO WANTED TO DIE WOULD NOT HAVE STRUGGLED SO MUCH. YOU DESERVED THE CHANCE.

"To rot away in here," Hiccup murmured desolately. "Maybe it would have been kinder to let me die." She stared at him and then gently peeled away the dressing, inspecting the wound which was clean and dry. The skin was a rosy pink but there was no sign of infection and no smell. She pressed her lips together and nodded in satisfaction, before putting a new dressing on. And then she drew out a syringe, filled it from a glass vial and injected the lot into Hiccup's thigh.

"OW!" he protested.

DON'T BE A BABY. THAT IS YOUR ANTIBIOTIC. IT IS TREATING THE INFECTION THAT ALMOST KILLED YOU. NO MATTER WHAT YOU SAY, YOUR BODY IS TRYING TO LIVE.

"It's clearly not with the programme," Hiccup muttered. "Condemned to die here." The medic gave a shrug.

BUT NOT NOW. I CAN STOP TREATING YOU NOW THAT YOU HAVE REGAINED CAPACITY IF THAT IS WHAT YOU WISH. I WILL RESPECT YOUR CHOICE.

He looked up then and his eyes widened. She was treating him like a normal human being, like a normal person who deserved the same consideration as any patient in any hospital anywhere. He blinked and a tear slid down his cheek. It was the first time he had been treated as anything of value for so long. He palmed it away.

"No, thank you," he said brokenly. "I-I think it would be a waste of all your efforts. And it seems the Gods haven't given up on me yet." He sighed. "Thank you."

She smiled then, her face lit by a satisfied smile. She refilled his cup and he drank the water thirstily, then she gave him a handful of pills. He raised an eyebrow but she folded her arms and he swallowed them without dissent. Finally, she checked his vitals and smiled. Efficiently, she repacked her bag and then handed him a bottle of pills.

THESE ARE YOUR ANTIBIOTICS. TAKE ONE THREE TIMES A DAY UNTIL THEY RUN OUT. Then she paused and fished out another larger bottle which she handed over. AND THESE ARE MULTIVITAMINS. YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE BEEN STARVED FOR A WHILE AND YOU NEED THESE TO HEAL UP. She smiled. I FEEL YOU MAY BE MEANT FOR GREATER THINGS. TAKE ONE OF THESE A DAY UNTIL THEY RUN OUT. I WILL RETURN IN THREE DAYS TO CHECK YOUR DRESSING AGAIN. REST AND DRINK PLENTY. He nodded and grasped her hand.

"I don't think I can ever repay you…but thanks," he murmured. She sighed.

ONE DAY, YOU MAY BE ABLE TO OFFER HELP TO ANOTHER, she wrote.

"Not sure how," he murmured but she wagged an admonishing finger at him. "Sorry. Carry on," he amended sheepishly, feeling like he was a small boy being reprimanded by his elderly grandmother. She turned back to writing once more.

ALL I ASK IS THAT YOU PAY THE KINDNESS FORWARD. IF YOU MEET SOMEONE LESS FORTUNATE THAN YOU, DO NOT TURN AWAY. EVERYONE HAS HIS VALUE. AND NO ONE SHOULD BE CAST ASIDE JUST BECAUSE OF WHAT OTHERS THINK.

He nodded as she rose and hobbled to the door.

"I promise," he said roughly. "Not sure that I will ever be in a position to do that. I mean, I may find a seven-legged spider in here who needs my sympathy but beyond that…my chances of large scale help are a bit limited…" She smiled and shook her head. And then she rapped on the door and in a moment, she was gone, leaving Hiccup on his own once more.

oOo

His food was once again the good fare he had received as a fighter and the combination of meat, warm food, antibiotics and vitamins helped him slowly recover from the infection and operation. The medic returned as promised and removed the dressing, satisfied that he was healing well. She left him more vitamins and a programme of exercises to strengthen his muscles but told him that she would not be permitted to return again. So she hugged him and wished him good luck. And that she hoped she would see him once again.

Time passed and though he half-heartedly attempted the exercises, he fell into a depression. She had confirmed he had lost a week and he amended his calendar to reflect the time he was ill but as the days slowly passed, his hopes of reprieve finally vanished and as the next fight passed, his rations were reduced to the thin gruel that was barely enough to keep him alive. He tried his mental exercises but as his mood darkened, he began to curse his fate and just sit hunched in the corner of cell for hour upon hour, staring blankly or weeping and wishing for death.

He never saw the old medic again and the guards changed to a pair who never said a word and sometimes forgot to give him his full rations. He lost weight and grew weaker. Sometimes, he could barely recall his life before the cell, his entire existence shrinking to the four grey walls, now scratched with almost five years' worth of days incarcerated. Sometimes, as he stared at the sky through his little window, he thought he could see clouds and once a small bird flittered in his view, sheltering in the recess his window sat in. The sight of another living creature after years brought tears to his eyes and dropped his mood even further, only emphasising that he was alone and trapped while the bird was free.

He considered suicide but he had nothing to hang himself with and nothing sharp to cut his throat or wrists. Until he recalled the little safety razor he had stolen on that final day, concealed in the empty boot from his amputated foot before he had transferred it to somewhere safer…but as he lifted the blade from its little hiding place, he had seen Astrid's letters and he had broken down completely, clutching them to his chest and crying until he was exhausted. And as he weighed the blade in his hand, there was a fragile thread that kept him hanging on, kept him eating the gruel and drinking the water and going through the motions of life because he was still alive and people had risked themselves to give him that gift. He knew the medic and the guards probably had been acting directly against the Governor's orders but those small acts of kindness persuaded him that he couldn't give up, no matter how miserable he was. He had fought to live and something within him wouldn't let him give up on life…not while he still had breath in his body.

He was huddled on his sleeping shelf, wrapped in his patched and stained blankets because it was another bitterly cold day in his sixth Devastating Winter in Jotunheim when he heard a noise. It was like a small scratching. Frowning, he sat up and stared in the direction of the noise, wondering if it was a rat or some other vermin. There was a pause and then it stopped and he sagged back in disappointment. Then there was another bout of scratching and he frowned-and then almost jumped out of his skin.

The slab at the farthest side of the cell lifted and a head popped up. A pair of blue eyes widened and a thick blond unibrow dipped in disgust.

"Blast it tae Loki! This isnae the yard!" the man said.


	7. Comrade in Arms

**Seven: Comrade in arms**

Hiccup stared at the man in utter and total shock. For over five years, he had been confined to his cell and apart from the times he had been hauled out to fight for his life and kill for the amusement of the rich and depraved, he had been alone. He hadn't seen another human being for over two years.

"H-hello?' he tried, his voice very hoarse with disuse. The man looked over at him and winked.

""Don't mind me," he said brashly. "I've just got turned around. Damnation. That's six years of tunnelling in the wrong damned direction!"

"Um…tunnelling?" Hiccup asked. The man looked at him.

"Yeah…I'm digging my way out of here," he said easily. Hiccup took a shuddering breath.

"Can-can I come?" he asked. The man looked startled.

"What?' he asked.

"Can I join you?" Hiccup asked more firmly, a sudden flicker of hope springing up in his chest. The man stared at him.

"No," he said and slammed the flagstone down as he vanished.

"Wait!" Hiccup begged, flinging off his blankets and crawling across the cell. He reached the flagstone and scrabbled frantically at the slab, managing to raise it and rest it against the cell wall and then staring into the tunnel. "Wait!" And then he wriggled down into the space-coming almost face to face with the man.

"What're ye doing in here, laddie?" the man asked, his face inches from Hiccup's. The young man almost gagged at the foul breath.

"Getting out of my cell," he said simply. The tunneller shook his head.

"No yer not," he said sharply. "Get yer own tunnel!" Hiccup frowned.

"I don't think so," he said firmly. "I think you can tunnel twice as fast when there are two of you."

"No."

"I mean, twice as much muscle power…"

"Not in you, yer fishbone," the man challenged him.

"Haha," Hiccup said sarcastically. "I'm not afraid of hard work."

"No."

"Okay-I go back to my cell, call the guards and they can talk to you about your subterranean activities," Hiccup threatened him calmly. "I mean, I may even get some better food out of it."

"Ye wouldn't!"

"Why not?" Hiccup asked him simply. "If you won't allow me to help, why should I keep your secret? Why should I facilitate your escape while I rot in my cell?"

There was a pause.

"I could kill yer," the man said gruffly, his voice edged with menace. Hiccup felt the prickle of metal against his neck and realised, in the few dim rays of light that filtered past him, that the man had a hook for a hand-and it was dug into his throat.

"Go ahead," he challenged the man bitterly. "I mean, it would pretty much finish my life's saga the way it's all gone. Wrongly condemned for treason, forced to fight for my life over and over, losing my leg as a result of a fight designed to kill me, betrayed by my best friend, abandoned by my family and the woman I love-why should you be any different? Go ahead-you'd be doing me a favour."

There was a silence-and then the pressure withdrew.

"Back up, laddie," the man said gruffly. "I canna let that go. I'm no cold-blooded killer, whatever else I'm guilty of. I'll come through and ye can tell me what's bin happening ter ye." Breathing hard, Hiccup backed up and wriggled out of the tunnel and then the man squirmed and scrambled his way through and pulled himself into Hiccup's cell.

Eyes wide, Hiccup scrambled back to his bed shelf and stared at the man. He was a shade taller than the young prisoner and considerably broader and thicker in the middle, his face broad with a prognathic chin, a long blond moustache which was elaborately braided and a bald head. His blue eyes twinkled with intelligence and humour and his left hand was indeed missing and replaced by a fearsome looking hook. His right leg was also amputated below the knee and a simple wooden peg was attached in its place. And Hiccup reckoned he was probably in his fifties, around his father's age…and he definitely had a thick Berkian accent. The man looked him up and down.

"Yeh don't look like the usual fare for this place," he commented. "What do they call ye, laddie?"

"Number 34," Hiccup admitted slowly. "But my name is Hiccup." The man chuckled.

"I see the good old Berkian naming traditions are still ruining kids' lives a thousand years after the Viking era," he said cheerfully. "Twenty Nine. Otherwise known as Gobber."

"Wow. I think Hiccup is a better option than that!" the younger man commented as Gobber chuckled.

"Ye know, I like ye, laddie. Yer a sarcastic bastard. I appreciate that!"

"Wow. First person who talks to me for years and he calls me sarcastic. Happy days." Gobber snorted with laughter at the dry comment.

"Yup. You'll do," he said and lowered his heavy body onto the ground. "So tell ole' Gobber what happened?" Taking a slow breath, Hiccup nodded and told his tale.

There was a long pause after he had finished and then Gobber scratched his chin with his hook.

"That is a pretty sorry tale," he admitted, eyeing the young man up and down. "I mean, ye really are innocent. Is there no way ye misinterpreted what yer friend said?" Hiccup shook his head, his hand tightening in anger.

"He testified in the trial that I was the one that accepted the commission to deliver the suitcase," he said bitterly. "He claimed that he knew nothing about the suitcase. He pointed out that there was nothing to tie him to the case. And that he was not at work on the day of the delivery and had nothing to do with the run. And that he was personally horrified by my reckless and illegal actions. That he had begged me not to take the run and put money above the safety of everyone in the Archipelago. And they believed him."

"Must've been the stupidest jury in the history of juries," Gobber commented.

"It was a Berk Jury," Hiccup explained.

"Nuff said," the older man retorted. "Not great thinkers on Berk and with a real sheep mentality. Ye get a good attorney and stir up enough outrage and their brains congeal. Logic and reason go straight out of the window and they'll go fer the easiest option that will assuage their sense of public outrage…whether or not the defendant is actually guilty or not…"

"Sounds familiar," Hiccup said, wrapping his arms around his knees. Gobber tapped his hook on the ground as he thought.

"Of course, no Public Prosecutor worth his salt would even consider a case based on such flimsy evidence…" Gobber commented as Hiccup lifted his head.

"Except Grimborn said he had to because the evidence was overwhelming," he sighed.

"It's circumstantial at best," Gobber said gruffly. "There is no paper trail tae link ye to the suitcase. There is no evidence ye support the Terrorist Bludvist. All the have ye on is delivering the case to a restricted location- a misdemeanour at worst."

"Yeah, he said that too," Hiccup said. "But after he had given his opening oration laying out the case, the judge insisted they add treason to the list of charges. And guess what? That's what I end up convicted of."

"I bet yer family were having nae luck in getting past him," Gobber commented.

"My Dad is a pretty persuasive man but in the end, he had to appeal to the Council of Ministers to have Grimborn removed," Hiccup admitted. "And because I'm still here, I guess that failed."

"He seems to be a nasty piece o' work-that's for sure," the older man mused as Hiccup shrugged.

"Yeah-that really is just my luck," he commented and then he looked up. "I've told you my sorry tale of woe. How did you get here?"

Gobber looked at the young man and sighed.

"Fair enough-though it's not a great story," the older said, sighing. "I'm from Berk as well-though I left a long while back. I was a soldier and then an engineer and mechanic. And I loved my job. I had good friends and a good life…but I was fascinated by legends of the Treasure of Eyja Nott…" Hiccup raised an eyebrow.

"I thought that was a myth they told kids to get them out learning geography," he said dryly.

"I mean, my best friend and I used to go out looking for the treasure of Hamish the First," Gobber revealed, his eyes gleaming with nostalgia. "We were both buff sons of Vikings and both of us boar-headed stubborn men who would never give an inch and who definitely knew that we were always right! We fought like badgers and almost got ourselves frozen to death on a fruitless search for the treasure. But I knew that we had turned back too soon and if we hadn't given up, we would have gotten close." Hiccup pulled his blanket tighter around his bony shoulders and gave a small smile.

"Sounds like something my Dad would have said," he commented. "He would have never admitted he was wrong. Man, he was competitive…" Gobber chuckled.

"A lot of Berkians are the same," Gobber admitted with a grin. "Yours truly among them… But the fable caught my imagination-especially as I learned there was a basis in fact. The ancient scribe and explorer, Bork-who was a very distant ancestor of mine-was an expert on dragons, including a very rare species called a Night Fury…and he claimed that they originally came from a remote island called the Isle of Night."

"Or Eyja Nott," Hiccup murmured. "But it's all…"

"There was an ancient Viking Chief named Grimbeard the Grisly, early on-maybe two or three centuries-after Vikings had sailed to the Archipelago," Gobber explained. "He was powerful and ferocious-a complete sonova rancid troll. He subjugated most of the Archipelago and plundered every single island. When he was finally overthrown, he retreated to the most remote part of the Archipelago and he and his treasure were finally stranded on Eyja Nott. And there it remains to this day."

"Or Grimbeard slipped his pursuers and sailed south and lived out the rest of his life in utter luxury with all the Archipelago's cash," Hiccup commented dryly.

"Boy, you are bitter and cynical," Gobber told him with a raised eyebrow.

"Why thank you, I also do parties," Hiccup smirked and then he gave a laugh. "Thor, I am out of practice." Gobber leaned forward and clapped him on the shoulder with his real hand.

"I like ye, laddie!" he reassured the young man. "Where's the magnificence in yer soul? The dreams? The ability to believe in something amazing happening?" Hiccup gestured to the cell.

"I think it died the day Drago fucked me then fucked me over and tried to have me killed," he said. "The day I ended up with the injury that lost me my leg and almost took my life. The day when I knew there was no hope and I would die in this Odinforsaken place." Gobber's eyes softened at the suddenly defeated tone.

"Laddie-we will get out of here and I will show you that there is hope," he said gently. Hiccup shrugged.

"Knowing my luck, the tunnel would flood or cave in and I'd end up killing myself trying to escape," he said and then he sighed. "But it's the only option because I'm gonna die here anyway." Gobber grinned.

"And ye know, having a partner who can fly a plane will be an asset as well," he began but Hiccup's head dropped.

"Once, maybe…" he mumbled and gestured to his left leg. Gobber gave a shrug.

"That shouldnae stop yer!" he told the younger man brashly. "I mean-look at me! I'm down a couple of limbs and I don't let it stop me…or even slow me down…"

"A peg won't work," Hiccup told him flatly. Gobber shook his head.

"We can sort that," he said. "I'm a mechanic and engineer-I can make you something better."

"In here?" Hiccup asked cynically. Gobber smiled.

"Don't ye worry, laddie," he reassured him. "Ole Gobber will sort it." And then his eyes narrowed. "Ye haven walked since ye lost it, have ye?" Hiccup shook his head. "How long?"

"Two years," he sighed. "I was given exercises but there seemed no point…" Gobber tutted.

"So how do ye…?" he asked and then he saw the damage to the knees of the young man's pants. "Oh laddie…" He gently rested a hand on the young man's arm. "Look-the one thing we have is time. And we're going to get ye walking again." Then he sighed and squinted at the window. "Ah…the sky. Havenae seen that for many years." He patted Hiccup's arm again. "Start on those exercises, laddie and I'll be back later…"

"Where…where are you going?" Hiccup asked, suddenly afraid he would be left alone again after so many years but Gobber grinned.

"Gotta be back in me cell for that lovely tasty gruel or the guards will notice I'm not there," Gobber said with a wink. "In the meantime, laddie, ye need to eat yer gruel, do yer exercises and keep yer spirits up. Because yer right: we can dig better with two of us." And then he squeezed himself back through the tunnel and vanished.

oOo

Gobber came back, as he had promised and for the first time in a long time, someone had kept his word to the young man. Hiccup had been almost beyond speech when the man had popped his head up and grinned at the shocked expression. As he struggled out of the tunnel, he couldn't help teasing the younger man.

"What did ye never think ole' Gobber would come back?" he asked and Hiccup desolately shook his head.

"Everyone else has let me down," he admitted wretchedly. The two-limbed man gave a warm grin and came to sit at Hiccup's side.

"Well, I'm not gonna," he said firmly. "Ye remind me of someone…canna remember who…but I'm as keen to have someone tae talk to. And yer young and sassy enough for me…" Hiccup managed a wry smile.

"So it's my sass you're after?" he asked warily and Gobber sighed.

"Laddie-I just need a friend and a helper," he admitted. "And you definitely need a friend. I'm not about to jump ye, laddie…and I'm not getting any younger. These old bones are definitely aching more than they were and I want to finish this tunnel before I die of old age." Shrugging, Hiccup nodded.

"None of us are getting any younger," he admitted. "I've been here more than five years…" And he gestured to the wall. Gobber peered up and sighed.

"Clever lad," he murmured. "So are ye in?" Nodding, Hiccup offered the man his hand, taking a deep breath and praying that his trust wouldn't be misplaced this last time.

"Partners?" he asked and Gobber gave a brash grin.

"Partners."

oOo

True to his word, Hiccup restarted his exercises with Gobber helping. The man seemed happy to spend time with his new friend, rather than restart excavation in the opposite direction and acted as a mentor and partner in the belated rehabilitation while Hiccup brought his concentration to the excavation works. He asked a lot of very detailed questions of Gobber and crawled along the tunnel himself before he sketched a layout of the Fortress and the location of the tunnel. Amazed and shocked, Gobber peered at the neat sketches and back up at the younger man.

"That is amazing," he breathed. "Laddie-how did ye do this?"

"I memorised it from when they brought me in and when I was taken to the fights and up to see the Governor and Drago," Hiccup admitted. "I guess I was hoping I may get a chance to escape…though probably didn't think it through. I mean, where would I go?"

"I was gonna wait until the prisoner transport arrived and jump the pilot once they had taken the new convicts inside-and then leave," Gobber muttered. "Of course, once we get ye a second leg, can ye fly a copter?" Slowly, Hiccup nodded.

"May be a bit rusty," he admitted. "But yeah. I can fly." Gobber gave a broad grin.

"So we have a plan," he said. "First, we strengthen your legs and get you walking once more. Then we tunnel in the right direction-while I share everything I have learned with you, because you are a remarkable and brilliant young man."

"Thanks," Hiccup murmured, his throat curiously thick.

"And finally-we escape from Freezing-To-Death," Gobber said. Hiccup looked at the plans he had drafted and nodded.

"It's going to take us five years to get to the outer wall on the cliffside," he said. "I'm with you all the way. Let's start."


	8. Slow Way Out

**Eight: Slow Way Out**

Hiccup proved himself remarkably adept at shimmying through the uneven tunnels and working at the head of the tunnel. They had calculated where Gobber had gotten turned round and knew where and in which direction to tunnel next and Hiccup quickly drafted plans and calculated how quickly they could tunnel and how long it would take. The estimate was just over five years-even with both of them digging.

The ground under the Fortress was frozen like iron, limiting the time they could be down there for fear of hypothermia and taking ages to chisel and scrape a few handfuls of dirt away per day. Gobber was heartened because he had been disposing of the waste in his slop bucket but he now pointed out that there was twice as much disposal capacity available which should speed up their progress. But also he wanted to discuss the treasure with Hiccup-and share every instance and piece of knowledge he possessed, because he hadn't had anyone to talk to for over fifteen years. So between exercising and digging, Gobber assumed the role of mentor, friend and teacher. It turned out that he had a mind as sharp as a tack and was an amazing engineer. And as he began to trust the older man and open up.

So he discussed his upbringing, confided his love of mechanisms, his engineering training and the aircraft he had always wanted to design. He grew passionate as he went through the deficiencies he had noted in the current options and what he would want from a light and a medium sized aircraft. As they chatted, Hiccup sketched out his design, showing the design features he knew would improve the vessel and Gobber was astonished that the young man had retained such a complex and detailed design…until Hiccup explained that he had designed it mentally while he had been locked up. He guessed someone else would have already patented the novel design features he had thought up and there would already be an aircraft like his out there. But Gobber wasn't so sure because what Hiccup was suggesting was an amazing leap forward.

So between sessions digging and exercising, they had gone over the plans and Gobber had challenged him, asking questions, pointing out errors and requesting calculations that would prove it would work. And Hiccup had risen to the challenge, modelling every possible situation and refining his plans as they had discussed them. He drew new engines, a novel aileron and tail assembly and Gobber was shocked that this was what had kept the young man going. So Gobber had taught him everything he knew.

Gobber had modified his second metal food plate-he didn't clearly explain how he managed to get his hands on a second one though he did mention that drunken guards weren't especially efficient at keeping track of plates, cups and buckets which is how he had several of each-and found ways to modify the metal to create a new leg for Hiccup, carving a wooden cup for his leg which he lined with beaten leather they rescued from Hiccup's other boot, the one he would no longer need because he didn't have a left foot. And the young man's face had been covered with a genuine smile as they fitted the unique prosthetic and Gobber had taught him to walk once more.

Working in the tunnel was cold and cramped, wax used to make tiny candles and cut hair also used the help light the way. Hiccup gladly contributed his beard and the use of his little razor to trim his hair and beard while Gobber used his hook and a small chisel he had managed to smuggle in to cut. They dug into cells that seemed to be empty and scavenged wood and scraps to brace the tunnel as the inched their way forward. And as they advanced, they knew they were getting closer to freedom.

"When I left Berk, I was used to everyone ridiculing meh obsession," Gobber explained as they sat by the entrance to the tunnel in Gobber's cell. Hiccup had found that initially, he was a little nervous in leaving his cell and clawing his way through the narrow tunnel towards Gobber's cell. He wasn't claustrophobic but he was crawling into the unknown and as he popped his head up, he had been surprised.

Gobber's cell was a little larger than his and he seemed to have accrued far more in the way of amenities. Gobber had a stool, a low table, several books, a small pillow and a spyglass. He still had the obligatory slop bucket, jug and plate but there were also duplicates under the table-and there were also a chisel, a screwdriver and a small wrench. Looking around in shock, the young man had been speechless but Gobber had sat him down on the stool and then sat on the table himself and had grinned.

"Welcome to meh palace," he said.

One thing they had to be careful of was to be back in their cells at feeding time, partly because Hiccup still thanked his jailers for the food and water and because they needed to ensure that their slop buckets were emptied-with the spoils from the tunnel. And of course, because if they were not there or their buckets and plates were not ready, the guards would have opened the cell doors and looked to check the prisoners were still alive. And because, once he had been rehabilitated, Hiccup was such more agile and lithe than Gobber, they tended to meet in Gobber's cell and Hiccup was the one who made the dash back to his own quarters to get there in time.

Between spells of tunnelling and exercise, Gobber imparted his wisdom, both in life, in rehab and living life as an amputee and in fighting. "Just in case," he had explained with a grin as he made sure Hiccup was versed in a wider selection of dirty tricks than even Spitelout knew-as well as making sure the young man learned to box and some simple martial arts moves. And as he had trained the young man, Gobber had fired question after question at his friend, sharpening his wits and ensuring his brain was trained as well as his body. So Hiccup answered a barrage of questions on engineering rules, physical laws, elements and alloys, design principles and even the history of Berk.

In response, he had sparred with Gobber and reminded the man of Ancient Norse, which he was fluent in, thanks to his father. Gobber had been impressed, admitting that his own recollection of his lessons from school was somewhat blurry-mainly because he had been not paying attention at the time. Hiccup had smiled, recalling his father's reminiscences of his own time in school and how he and his best friend were repeatedly sent out of Ancient Norse lessons for playing Maces and Talons-a reason why he had wanted his son to be fluent in the language and skilled in the game. Hiccup had not disappointed his father on either count.

"So tell me how you found out about the Isle of Night," Hiccup prompted Gobber as they ate their dinner together. The gruel had been thicker and much more nourishing recently and Hiccup had overheard his guards talking outside his cell as they had dolloped an unheard-of second spoonful into his plate. Apparently Alvin had lost above average numbers in the fights since Hiccup was retired and there had been fewer convicts sent to Jotunheim over the last year due to a shift in Archipelago Penal Policy so the Governor had decided to feed his current population better to ensure that fewer died of starvation or disease. At least until the supply increased once more. Gobber chewed the hard black bread that had also started to be provided and glared at it.

"Ye know, eating rock would be more tasty," he grumbled.

"No, it wouldn't," Hiccup had retorted. "I tried when I was at my lowest ebb and my rations were being restricted even more than usual. At least this is chewable."

"Speak for yerself," Gobber muttered and gestured. He had a missing tooth and he had fashioned himself a replacement from stone he had painstakingly smoothed down from a stone he had chipped from the wall of his cell. It was prone to fall out and rubbed but Gobber insisted it was better than nothing, though Hiccup wasn't so sure.

"The Isle of Night?" he prompted as Gobber chewed his bread carefully.

"When I left Berk tae follow the clues, I headed tae the Central Library and Archives on Meathead," he explained. "Those Meatheads aren't a patch on good Berkian folk! I spent a good month there, searching the records from back when Grimbeard was mekin' life hell for the other Vikings of the Archipelago-and for the twenty years afterwards. Not that they were properly archived or filed or even in any sort o' order…"

"So what did you find?" Hiccup asked him before the older man could launch into a diatribe against the filing system in the fabled Library on Meathead. Of course, there probably was a unique filing system since the Librarians there were renowned across the North for being intolerant, capricious and quite violent. Hiccup guessed they had been chosen for their martial prowess, not their familiarity with the Dewey Decimal system.

"Grimbeard did go to the Isle of Night when he was ousted," Gobber revealed. "And the Library revealed that his men were sent away when he was dying-with a list of clues how to find his treasure which he ordered should be given to his son so he could claim his birthright. But his son-Hamish the First-rejected his father's legacy and became one of the most revered Chiefs of Berk. He also built up his own fortune, some legitimate and some possibly handed to him from his father anyway…"

"So Grimbeard's treasure may actually be the treasure of Hamish the First?" Hiccup checked but Gobber shook his head vehemently.

"No!" he growled. "Were ye nae listening? Grimbeard kept the vast bulk o' his riches and took them with him to Eyja Nott and died there with them"

"And no one went and stole them after he was gone?" Hiccup asked cynically.

"The Isle of Night is legendary and when Grimbeard's men died, the route was lost," Gobber explained. "Hamish rejected the treasure as the wages of his father's evil and built up his own riches. There are rumours that his great great grandson found Grimbeard's map and renewed the clues before hiding the map once more. And of course Hamish himself buried his own treasure which I didnae find either…"

"Hmm…seems to be a family trait, burying treasure and losing the map," Hiccup muttered as Gobber folded his arms irritably.

"Ye know, it wouldnae ha' been half as difficult is that boar-headed Stoick had taken my advice and we had…" he began but Hiccup started and grabbed the man by the shoulders.

"What? Stoick?" he exclaimed urgently. Gobber nodded, not really paying attention.

"Yes, Stoick," he concurred. "You know, Mayor of Berk? Huge man with flaming red hair, voice that can be heard half an island away, looks like half a mountain on legs, beard you could lose a yak in…"

"My father," Hiccup interrupted.

Gobber's jaw dropped. His eyes widened and he stared at the skinny shape, the emerald eyes now suddenly familiar from a woman he had known as the wife of his best friend…and from the young son they had together.

"S-S-Stoick is yer father?" he mouthed. Hiccup nodded.

"Um…yeah…didn't you know?" he said as Gobber's eyes widened.

"No," he mumbled. "Ye didnae give me yer name…"

"I did," Hiccup said defensively.

"Yeah…Hiccup…" Gobber retorted. "Not Hiccup Haddock…"

"And how many Hiccups do you think there are on Berk? Or in the Archipelago in general?" the younger man asked sarcastically.

"Well, Berk is an island that still celebrates 'Bludgeon Day' where some o' the more enthusiastic members of the community bludgeon each other over the head competitively," Gobber pointed out. "I'm called Gobber, yer cousin is called Snotlout, yer grandfather was called Old Wrinkley…"

"But couldn't you have something?" Hiccup protested. "I mean…" Gobber suddenly sat back and his head bowed.

"I left Berk when ye were a wee nipper, Hiccup," he sighed, his voice guilty. "Last I recall o' ye was a very wee laddie with short straight auburn hair, bright green eyes, the agility of a newborn giraffe and an uncanny ability her get into trouble." He gestured. "I mean…look at yer!" Hiccup glanced down.

"You mean skinny, down a leg, looking like a scarecrow topped by a bird's nest…" he said quietly. But Gobber didn't even pause, throwing his arms around the young man and almost crushing him in a ferocious hug. Hiccup went rigid, unused to any affection or human contact for five terrible years…and then he relaxed, resting against the older man and wrapping his arms around the solid body.

"Laddie-I should've known," Gobber said. "I mean…yer right…how many Hiccups are there? And ye have yer mother's eyes…"

"Yeah, I should have given them back," Hiccup sassed automatically as Gobber squeezed him tighter. He flapped a hand desperately. "Gobber-can't breathe…" he gasped and then inhaled in relief as the big man released him. "Thor-last thing I need is to be smothered by by newly refound godfather." Gobber looked ashamed again.

"Aye…I should've been there for ye," he said ashamedly. "But I left when ye were a nipper because I needed tae satisfy meh own quest, the obsession I'd had since I was a teen. I mean, yer Dad had his wife and the son he had longed for so long and he was Mayor of the island and he didnae need me…" Hiccup sighed.

"A year after you left, Mom was killed in a car wreck and it was just him and me," he revealed quietly. "I know he mentioned you a few times but I got the impression it was just too painful with you not being there. I couldn't remember you-just a big outline… I mean, it was just him and me, since Uncle Spite never really liked me and Snot used to bully me…" Gobber stared at him in shock.

"Thor, yer really tightening the screw, laddie," he grumbled. "I mean, now I know I should've been there when ye needed me…" Hiccup sighed.

"I still have that book ye left me, the book on engineering and smithing and mechanisms," he admitted. "I mean, it was way too advanced for a four year old but it did fire my imagination. It's the reason why I'm an engineer and pilot…" Gobber was sniffing now.

"I never wept when I lost meh limbs…but I'm weeping now…" he sniffed. "I should've bin there, helping ye with yer studies and nurturing the brilliant mechanic and engineer ye've become…" Hiccup sighed and patted the older man's shoulder again.

"Well, you're here now…when I'm alone and abandoned and without hope so maybe…you're just where and when I need you," he said slowly. Gobber looked up, wiping his eyes with his hook hand and then lunged at Hiccup, hugging him fiercely again. Hiccup felt his ribs creak once more but allowed the gesture because it was kind of nice to have the warmth of human contact once more. And then Gobber sniffed and pulled back, reaching inside the noisome recesses of his stained shirt to pull out a piece of parchment that was folded and stained…and, as he unfolded it, marked with a map.

Hiccup's eyes widened and he stared.

"Is…is that…?" he asked quietly. Gobber nodded.

"The Isle of Night," he confirmed. "I found it inside an ancient book from Viking times, a couple of hundred years after Grimbeard's time…well, I copied it because the original was falling tae pieces. I spent hours copying it and then I took the original. Buried it in meh family grave plot on Berk." Hiccup leaned forward and squinted.

"These runes are an ancient dialect and don't make much sense," he murmured. and then he frowned. "But I have seen the island shape before. On an aviation map…" He paused and closed his eyes banging his hands against his forehead. "Think, Hiccup-think!" Eyes widening, Gobber watched him for a moment and then decided to speak.

"Yeh know where the island is?" he asked and Hiccup nodded with a small smile.

"I do believe I do," he admitted. Gobber grabbed him and kissed him on the cheek, causing Hiccup to pull back and wiped his face urgently.

"Gobber! I mean GOBBER! Bleurgh!" he managed, looking shocked as the older man suddenly appeared self-conscious. And then he frowned. "You never meant to show me this map, did you?" Pausing, the older man shook his bald head, his braided moustache swinging.

"Um…no…" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I mean, I worked long and hard to find this and I wasnae willing to give it tae anyone. What if ye turned out tae be a murderous thief?"

"As opposed to a wrongly-convicted innocent man?" Hiccup asked him sharply. "You were going to abandon me…" He swallowed but Gobber sighed.

"Laddie, I would never…but ye think I lost meh hand and leg in a freak mutton accident? There are some very bad men out there seeking the treasure. I ended here because I had tae kill tae protect myself and stop them taking what I had spent almost ten years collating and researching across the whole Archipelago." Gobber's eyes had hardened..and then he shrugged. "But yer me godson and the laddie I held when ye were a couple of hours old…though Valka didn't know because Stoick stole you to show me when she was asleep after the birth…aye, she had a temper on her when she was riled…I remember…"

"Gobber!"

"Oh, sorry…" The older man was contrite but his eyes twinkled. "And yeh know ye sounded just like your father then?" Hiccup rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Oh Gods…" he mumbled. "Gobber!" The man wrapped his arm around Hiccup's shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

"Laddie-I promise that when we escape, it will be together and together, we will find that treasure and return home in triumph!" Gobber promised. "As long as you can find that island…" Hiccup gave a small smile.

"I know exactly where that island is," he said. "And it's not that far from here."


	9. Dreams Like Fog Slip Away

**Nine: Dreams like fog slip away**

It was one of the happiest periods of Hiccup's life, qualified by the fact that he was still a condemned man in the worst prison in the North. Reunited with the godfather he could barely recall and given a companion with whom he got on like a house on fire were two things he had completely given up on. Though Hiccup loved his father and had a very good relationship with him, Stoick Haddock was a very different person to his son.

Large, traditional, loud, Stoick had been a football star at college, spend a period in the army serving his country and then he had returned home to move into island politics to serve Berk, as his entire family had before him. He tended to be blunt, was very wedded to his physical being and was completely dedicated to his job, while Hiccup was brilliant, sarcastic, adventurous and intuitive. Lanky but lean, Hiccup had been more of a runner and swimmer and had excelled at school, taking AP classes in all his Senior Year subjects, though making sure he took Norse and Viking History to please his father as well. Working as a mechanic during the first couple of years of college, he had bought Toothless, his almost-scrapped Night Strike aircraft and rebuilt the rusted hulk from the ground up while funding flying lessons from his college fund. And he had deferred his last two years as he had used the rebuilt Toothless it to set up Night Fury Transport. His father had been mad at that, growling that his son should have stuck at what he had started as he always had. For about a year, there had been a breach between them but Astrid had loyally stuck by him, working evenings and early mornings to bring in extra money until the business had got off the ground-metaphorically as well as literally. Hiccup and his equally stubborn father had been brought back together by Astrid's loyal mediation and they had talked through their differences and patched their relationship back up. And Hiccup had completed his engineering degree while running Night Fury Transport, graduating six months before he was arrested. And one thing Stoick had never wavered in was his belief in his son…

The only problem with his new situation was that almost constant company had been a little jarring in the first few days for a man who had been subjected to almost complete solitary confinement for five years and Hiccup had found he needed to draw back from the constant chatter and recentre, clearing his thoughts through the chatter. But following that brief period of adjustment, it had been a blessing…and even better when Gobber had recognised him. Following their mutual recognition as godson and godfather, that last barrier was down and Gobber had finally been honest about everything, including his original but now scrapped plans to double-cross Hiccup and leave him once they had escaped to retrieve the treasure on his own.

Thinking about it, as he lay curled in his cell, exhausted by a day of tunnelling and squinting over the map, he couldn't really blame Gobber. The prison was filled with the worst of the worst and Hiccup was probably the only innocent man in the place, the guards and Governor included-while Gobber freely admitted that his convictions for larceny, graverobbing, murder and manslaughter had been fully deserved, though justified (by Gobber) in the quest.

"There's a community of people out there searching for treasure and they get to recognise yeh," he explained. "And I wasnae one o' them so I set about it very differently. I mean, I broke into the museum of Uglithug and found a clue to the Treasure on the underside of a parchment that was mounted because no-one had ever tried to look at it properly…"

"And they put out an Archipelago-wide ABP for you for that," Hiccup added, having heard the tale three times already. Gobber grinned.

"I looked at it differently to them because I wasn't trained in Archaeology or any of those namby pamby things people study when they want to find treasure…" Gobber told him proudly.

"Like maybe the ability to read the language that the clues are written in?" Hiccup noted dryly. Gobber clapped him on the shoulder so hard he nearly knocked him off the bed-shelf.

"That's why Odin brought me yer," he announced happily. Rolling his eyes, Hiccup squinted at the words Gobber had copied out and then his eyes widened as he mentally translated the words.

_In Smidvarg's Lair keep your head,_

_The sun shall point your way ahead_

"It's a rhyming clue," he muttered. "That's why it makes no sense. So who is Smidvarg?"

"One of Grimbeard's men? Though I never heard of one of them called that…" Gobber muttered, idly rotating his hook. "Do another one…"

_On Viggo's Fall, the flames are hot_

_Eruptodon, eat your fill,_

_If it be cool, worry not_

_Gronckles will feed you still_

"You see, that makes no sense," Hiccup complained. "I mean, I know a Gronckle was an ancient dragon. And probably an Eruptodon. But who is Viggo? Apart from the man who sent me here…and I doubt he's that old that he's featuring in an ancient Viking clue…"

"Aye, well Viggo isnae an uncommon name in these parts," Gobber reassured him. "I knew a lad named Viggo Hardrada in the army…he was a total ass, tae be honest. Couldnae find his ass with both hands if he had a map, if ye take my meaning…"

"Not really," Hiccup admitted, squinting at the third clue.

_At the edge of land and sea_

_Where water turns to bone_

_There shall ye see_

_The path that leads ye home._

"I mean, it sounds like it should be the first clue but that is number three," he sighed. Gobber frowned.

"What do the symbols and numbers written at various points in the map mean?" he asked. Hiccup rolled his eyes and sat back.

"I don't know-but I do know that when we get out, we will need to research quickly on the ancient dragons that inhabited the Archipelago until they vanished," he sighed.

"I have Bork's diary here," Gobber revealed but Hiccup shook his head.

"I think we probably need something more detailed," he mused as Gobber suddenly brightened up.

"The Book Of Dragons and the Chronicles of the Edge," he realised. "I looked at them in the Meathead Library. Though I can't ever go there again. I mean, they have a picture of me on the wall as BANNED. And probably KILL ON SIGHT. I mean, I did steal a book." Hiccup's eyes widened: the Library on Meathead was renowned throughout the entire Archipelago as unusual as in the only place that carried an on-the-spot death penalty for stealing books, folding corners of a page down or bringing a book back more than fourteen days late. A small part of him wondered why the Council of First Ministers allowed such draconian and sadistic rules to exist but he dismissed the thought as irrelevant. It was tradition and that seemed to matter more than human life or common sense or reason to many people. His faith in human kindness and decency had long since been shattered and if the Meatheads wanted to kill people for marking their places in a book, that was their business. Though he would have to be careful when he visited-because he had already decided he was leaving with both the books Gobber had mentioned.

"Never even had a parking ticket," Hiccup told him. "Well, until I was condemned for High Treason fo course. But I've never got a library fine so I'll go." Chuckling at his sass, Gobber winked.

"That's meh godson," he said.

oOo

Months and years passed as they doggedly tunnelled towards the perimeter of the prison, the men developing an easy friendship as they spent almost all their time together. Sometimes they didn't even need to talk, though Gobber was, by nature, garrulous. Hiccup was more introspective and found his mind rolling over events. He had convinced himself that Eret and Grimborn were in league and Gobber had agreed that he believed there was a conspiracy there. But he had been forgiving of Stoick and Astrid, pointing out that the guards and Governor destroyed all letters and never allowed a word to escape from Jotunheim.

"Ye cannot expect them tae keep writing when all hope is lost and they haven' heard from ye for years," he pointed out. "They may even think yer dead, having not heard from yer. They still love yer, laddie-because that lass has been at yer side for most of yer life and yer Dad is a stubborn and loyal man-but sometimes, ye have tae give up hope when the person ye love vanishes into a black hole."

"I guess," Hiccup admitted quietly. "I mean why would they hope when it's been over ten years since I vanished here?" Gobber gently grasped his shoulder.

"They will be overjoyed to see you," he reassured younger friend. "No matter how long or how improbable, they love you and will have waited." Forcing a smile on his face, Hiccup sighed.

"I hope so," he murmured.

But there was a slowly rising sense of anticipation as they continued tunnelling. It was summer again and the temperature had risen to a consistent very positive value, thawing the surface layers of the ground as it hadn't for many years and making the progress much faster. For Freezing-To-Death, it was a real heatwave and the tunnel was forging ahead. Hiccup calculated that they had about two months left until they were safely beyond the wall and would be able to surface. And the warmer temperatures meant they could work for longer and were speeding ahead. It seemed that after so many years, Gobber was really keen not to wait a moment longer to get out of the prison.

But Hiccup was counselling caution. There was only so much soil they could smuggle out in their slop buckets and they were struggling to find props to strengthen the tunnel which was very long now and he was worried, with the rising temperatures, that the soil would lose some of its strength and cave in. The last thing they needed was a guard falling into their escape route as he patrolled the yard and ruining all those years of work. Stubborn and enthusiastic, Gobber refused to listen so Hiccup had loyally gone along with him, already planning their next move. He had bundled up everything he needed to take from the cell-the letters from Astrid and his Dad, his notes about every encounter with Eret, his plans, his translations of Gobber's clues and his copy of the map-in a little piece of oilskin Gobber had managed to smuggle in.

He had just scrambled back from the head of the tunnel when he heard Gobber give a low call and he turned. The man was looking back, a smile on his grimy face and a tiny piece of plant matter in his hand.

"Roots, laddie!" he said enthusiastically. "Roots! That means we're beyond the sterile stone of the yard. This means…we've made it. It's only a few days and we'll be out!"

Hiccup gave a shocked smile, his breath hitching. Freedom! The culmination of years of work and toil, of cramped conditions and pain and cold and hunger. The chance to finally get back to Berk and clear his name and…

The first siftings of dust didn't register but the next moments were in horrific slowness as the roof of the tunnel slowly collapsed, rocks and heavy chunks of still frozen soil landing on Gobber's prone body. Hiccup flung himself back and shielded his head, coughing in the fog of dust as the collapse finally ended. Blinking and lifting his tiny light, he peered into the smog and blinked.

"Gobber?" he called softly, listening for any sounds of life and for any sounds of detection. They were relatively deep and the roof had not breached to the surface but it had seemed thunderous to the prisoner and he was praying that no one had heard. Though the guards seemed to spend most of their time asleep, drinking or watching online television rather than patrolling. He called again, more softly as he was mindful that a rumble or thud could be dismissed but a yell underground would definitely be suspicious. "Gobber?" he breathed. "Please, Odin…" A faint groan sounded. "GOBBER!"

There was no reply so Hiccup burst into action, clawing his way through the rubble, moving soil and rock aside, coughing at the dust kicked up and ignoring the scratches and injuries to his hands. His only thought was his friend, half-buried under the collapse. He had to use all his strength to move some of the chances of sharp rocks that were lying over Gobber's head and chest and struggling, Hiccup turned the man over, seeing blood on his face and hearing the hitch in his breath. "Gobber…" he breathed, staring into the battered face.

"Y'were right…" Gobber murmured, his eyes fluttering closed. Desperate, Hiccup began the long and exhausting process of dragging Gobber's heavy body back through the tunnel and finally, he managed the haul to the man back into his own cell and onto the floor. Tenderly, he folded the older man's blanket under his head and gently raised his metal mug to his lips. A little water trickled over his bloody face but Gobber didn't drink. Instead, he just licked his bloody lips and his blue eyes opened blearily.

"Gobber…" Hiccup breathed, his face stricken. The older man gave a hoarse cough, more blood streaking from his nose and mouth.

"Rookie error," Gobber breathed. "Too eager. Stoick always said…" And he halted, fighting for breath. "Sorry, laddie. Yeh gonna have tae…go on without me…"

"No…" the younger man breathed, tears streaking his grubby face. "No, Gobber. I-I can't lose you. You've brought me back to life. You taught me to walk again. You gave me hope. We'll get out of here together and…" Gobber managed to pat Hiccup's cheek rather clumsily.

"S'okay, laddie. Dying. I'm not afraid. Tell, Stoick…I'll be waiting for him with Val…" Hiccup blinked and tears dripped from his face and landed on Gobber's.

"No…" he breathed as the older man fumbled under his shirt and brought out the map.

"Get the treasure…and have a drink…fer ole' Gobber…" he murmured, his voice fading. "Build yer plane. Get yer girl. Be happy…" His eyes closed and his head sagged back, his features growing slack.

"Gobber…" Hiccup breathed and flung himself across the body, sobbing bitterly. From the absolute heights of hope at almost being free to despair in losing his partner in misery, Hiccup felt as if he had lost everything. And he lay there, hugging the body as it slowly began to cool.

Finally sitting back on his heels, he palmed his cheeks dry and then looked up. The sun was westering and it looked suspiciously like time for the evening meal. Urgently, he pulled Gobber onto his bed and covered him with his blanket, making sure his plate, jug and slop bucket were in the correct place so he looked like he was just sleeping-for now. And then he grabbed Gobber's copy of Bork's Diary, all his notes and tidied the place, then carefully pulled the slab closed over the entrance behind him as he scrambled down the tunnel and erupted into his cell, sliding his plate into place just as the hatch opened and the gruel splatted onto the metal.

"Thanks!" Hiccup called, breathing hard as he watched his slop bucket emptied and water sloshed into his jug…and then he pulled his body back into his cell, staring at the wall of scratches. The tunnel was collapsed, his friend was dead and all his hopes were dashed. Once a new prisoner was put in 29, he would be denied access to the tunnel and that would be the end. He was going to die in prison.

As he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, he ran over all the years they had spent together, from that first moment when Gobber had popped his head up in his cell through deception and lies, realisation and truth, mentoring and laughing and friendship and hope…and now it was all gone. And Hiccup mourned, not only for the man he knew, his godfather and friend but for the severed link with his father and his past. And then he sat up.

They would find Gobber in the morning when his full plate and empty slop bucket would betray the fact that he no longer needed feeding and Hiccup needed to find out what would happen. He gave a thin smile. Unknown to the guards, he had an opportunity to listen in and see if there was any way he could use it to his advantage. So as soon as his morning gruel was delivered, he scrambled down the tunnel and then stopped at the brink of Gobber's cell-for he could hear voices in the cell-and one of them was the familiar, hated wheezing tone of Alvin.

"Stiff," Alvin commented callously.

"He hadn't eaten his dinner," a guard reported. "Though his plate was in place."

"Must have died about twelve hours ago," Alvin guessed and then he shifted his boots, scraping over the very flagstone that was inches above Hiccup's head. "Search him, Savage."

"What?"

"I said search him! This man was sent here for killing men, stealing artefacts and robbing museums so he could find the fabled treasure of Grimbeard the Grisly. And we are convinced he had the map on him when he arrived. And now…well, it's not going to do him any good so we better make sure it doesn't go to waste. So search him-every nook, every cranny…"

There were the sounds of muttering and then the creak of bodies, the rip of material and Hiccup screwed his eyes closed, trying not to imagine what the men were doing to the body of his beloved mentor. And he tried not to smile at Gobber's smug expression that he would have worn, knowing the men were scouring his body for a map that was safely in Hiccup's possession.

"Nothing," Savage growled. "No sign of anything." Alvin gave a scornful sigh.

"Honestly-do I have to do everything?" he muttered and then there were the sounds of creaking and the rip of cloth as he repeated the examination.

"Told you," Savage said as Alvin gave up. The Governor growled in his throat.

"Okay-prepare 'im," he said dismissively and stomped from the cell. Hiccup almost relaxed and then he froze.

"Do ye think the prisoners realise they don't even get coffins?" Savage asked cruelly. "I mean, why would we waste valuable wood on these scum? Though Al always charges the respective governments for the funerals, we just sew them in a shroud and pitch them into the sea. Ground's far too hard to dig a grave…and the fishes enjoy the meal…"

"I think they cling to the idea of a good burial," another guard scoffed.

"Jorg, Knut-sew him in and then I'll come back with a full party to dispose of the body," Savage announced. And then the guards left, clanging the door closed and clicking the lock. As soon as he was sure the cell was empty once more, Hiccup popped his head up and sighed, seeing Gobber lying partially disrobed on his bed shelf. Mouthing a silent apology, the younger man slid in and collected the screwdriver, chisel and wrench, bundled up everything he needed and made sure his own and Gobber's papers and the map and book were waterproof in the oilskin. Then he slid back into the tunnel as steps approached and two guards entered. Silently, they wrapped Gobber in the shroud and sewed him crudely in, then left to collect more men to carry him to the cliff.

Instantly, Hiccup burst from the tunnel, kneeling by the shroud and untying the thread and then pulling Gobber from the shroud and detaching his hook. Urgently, he tried to force Gobber down the main tunnel and felt utter dismay shoot through him, for the man was in full rigour and was stiff as a board. But desperation lent him strength and with a horrible snap, he found he had broken Gobber's remaining leg and neck and he was finally able to slid him into the cramped space, tamping him down and stamping the slab back into place. Then he carefully stowed the oilskin packet under his shirt and tied it into place before he resewed himself into the shroud, the hook grasped in his left hand in case anyone questioned its absence. The chisel was held in his other hand to help cut himself free when the time came. And then he lay back and prayed.

He had barely lain back when the door opened again and rough hands grabbed him and lifted him up. The guards weren't gentle in any way and he bit hard on his lip to stop himself twitching or making any move as fingers sank agonisingly into his left thigh, the fingers brutal. The guards swiftly carried him away and he had to try to breathe shallowly, for Gobber, of course, would not be breathing at all.

"He's much lighter than he looked," one commented.

"Well, they say yer sins leave you when you die," another commented.

"Boy-he must have been a bad boy to lose so much weight!" the first guard commented as Hiccup tried not to shiver: they had walked into the yard and for the first time in ten years, he was surrounded by open air. Goosebumps stood up on his flesh and he took a slow breath in, his nostrils filled with the salty scents of the sea, the rich scents of the thawing earth and the light scents of grass as they bruised the blades walking towards the cliff. There were the sounds of birdsong above and the harsh screams of the gulls…and the boom and plash of the waves, breaking on the cliff.

"About time," Alvin said a few feet to Hiccup's left. He sounded bored. "I ain't got all day." The guards walked forward and Hiccup got a sense of space as they began to swing his shrouded body. He tensed and gripped the hook and chisel tighter as they swung him once, twice, three times…and then the pressure on his flesh vanished. For a long moment he was flying out into the unknown and then he began to fall.

He took a deep breath and managed to angle himself so he was falling feet first. Breathing a prayer to the Gods, he closed his eyes as he hit the water-and promptly sank…


	10. A Dead Man

**Ten: A Dead Man**

The water was freezing. Despite the fact that the weather was unseasonably warm and even the ground had thawed, the Sullen Sea was bitterly cold and as he hit, Hiccup felt his breath stolen. It was the one thing he had failed to take into account-but this was the only option he had. All other hopes had been dashed and his friend and partner in misery had been killed. Dying in the cold sea was better than slowly rotting of cold or hunger or despair in cell 34.

As soon as the water closed over his head, he lashed out with the hook and the chisel, slicing into the thick material and ripping a hole through large enough to shimmy through. Then he dropped the chisel and stuck the hook into his waist band before swimming upwards as strongly as he could…notwithstanding the fact he had a metal leg. His chest was burning and he could feel his limbs growing heavy but he thrashed away from the cliff as far along the coast as he could manage before he needed to surface to try to get out of sight. Yet when he finally broke surface, he squinted up at the cliff edge and saw that the 'burial' party had already left, heading back inside. He was safe…but was going to get hypothermia and drown if he didn't get out of the water. But the cliffs were sheer and steep and the ferocious rocks promised a vicious death if he tried to swim to them and clamber out. So he struck out, suddenly finding himself surging away from the shore and realising he was caught in a rip current. Every instinct was to fight but he knew that was the stupidest thing to do so he lay back and floated as he tried to work out which way to try to break to get away. But as the shore receded rapidly, his limbs grew heavier and heavier and it was all he could do was to kick his legs slowly and remain afloat.

"AHOY!"

His eyes snapped open and he raised his head…to see a small boat only a few yards to his right. He had missed them, almost dozing and he frowned, forcing his foggy thoughts to sharpen to enough focus to answer. Where was he again? He raised an arm and waved.

"'HOY!" he managed. A pair of heads poked over the dark green rails and inspected him.

"You need a hand, my good fellow?" a friendly voice called. Wearily he nodded and waved again.

"Y-y-y-yes…" he managed as the two heads conferred-and the a boat-hook was lowered down. Blinking, Hiccup managed a few feeble strokes that got him a little closer…and then his hand closed on Gobber's hook in his waist band, using it to snag on the book hook and hanging on for dear life with both hands as he was drawn in close and then finally fished unceremoniously from the frigid sea. Lying on the desk, his body heaving with the effort, the cool air just exacerbated his hypothermia and he began to shiver, his teeth chattering and head down.

"Th-th-thanks…" he managed as a blanket was placed over his shoulders. A gruff female voice was loud his ears.

"You're freezing," she said. "We'll get you inside."

"Uh…sis?" the male voice piped up. "You know what he is?" There was a pointed gesture at the dark shape of the island.

"Yeah…but no one ever escapes from Freezing-To-Death so who would believe us?" the woman said. "And anyway, we're not the boss of him. If he wants to run away from there, we're probably bound to help."

"Why?"

"Well, we're not exactly law-abiding, are we?" she told him, trying to rub some life into Hiccup's frozen limbs.

"A valid point, sister Nut," the male voice said. "Why is he holding a hook?"

"Maybe he wants to be a pirate?" the female asked, her hands closing on his shoulders. But he was shivering so hard and his legs were so weak that he couldn't move. "Give us a hand, Tuff? He needs to get inside and he's a dead weight!"

"F-F-Fishbone…" Hiccup managed through his chattering teeth. "'nd alive…" The male moved to his other side and between them, the two manhandled the shivering man into the cabin and sat him on the solid wooden bench bolted to the wall by the window.

"You know, that won't do," the male, Tuff, said. "I mean, we already have Fishlegs…we can't have a Fishbone as well…I mean, if we called Fish, half the crew would answer…"

"But already if you call Nut both of us would answer so it would be fairly symmetrical," the woman answered, still rubbing Hiccup's shoulders.

"A good point, Ruffnut," Tuff said solemnly. "Fishbone it is…"

"N-n-n-no…" Hiccup stammered through his chattering teeth. "Am f-f-f-fishbone…n-n-not c-c-called…"

"Awww…now that's unfair, confusing us…" Ruff whined.

"Unacceptable," Tuff said. "Throw him back in!" Eyes widening, Hiccup jerked forward, his hand clamping around the male's wrist.

"P-p-p-please…" he begged, eyes wide and the male stiffened.

"It was a joke…" he said urgently, not realising the man had taken it seriously. "Boy, you really haven't had it good, have you?" Hiccup shook his head, his head dropping.

"It's okay-you're safe with us," Ruff told him, sitting by his side. "We won't turn you in. We'll get you warm and feed you up and find you some clean clothes…" Tuff cleared his throat. "Well, clothes."

"Th-th-thanks," Hiccup mumbled as Tuff went to a grimy coffee pot and sloshed out a tin mug of the black viscous liquid. Steam curled from the drink and the male pressed it into Hiccup's shaking hands.

"This'll put hairs on your chest," he said confidently as Hiccup took a sip. His eyes slammed open and he forced himself to swallow, the drink warming him.

"And a h-heart attack…" he managed, the chattering of his teeth easing a little. "Strong…"

"Thorston blend!" the male said proudly. "I make it myself…" Hiccup took another large gulp and sighed.

"H-haven't h-had a h-hot drink f-for over a d-decade…" he admitted, hunched over the mug, his long fingers wrapped around the warm metal. "S'good…"

"No it's not," Ruff told him dryly. "It's terrible. But my brother always wanted to be a barista so we're stuck with his incompetent attempts to create the perfect coffee…once he made Fish pass out from caffeine overdose…"

"W-wait…y-you actually h-have someone c-called F-Fish on y-your c-c-crew?" Hiccup asked, feeling the sensation returning a little to his hands and foot. Ruff nodded. She was lanky with a long face, grey-blue eyes and long pale blonde hair in three thick waist-length braids. Her brother, Tuff, was the same shape with pale brown eyes and long blond dreadlocks. Both wore brown leather pants and boots, green shirts and darker green vests.

"Yeah, he's our resident encyclopaedia and respectable person," she admitted. "He's in the wheelhouse, steering."

"Y-you're smugglers?" the auburn-haired fugitive asked and they nodded, both grinning wildly.

"Welcome to the Barf'n'Belch!" Tuff said.

oOo

Hiccup's eyes snapped open and he looked around wildly, completely disorientated. He wasn't lying in the cold stone floor of his cell, the room was moving and he was relatively warm with a thick furry blanket tucked around his skinny shape. Frowning, he pushed himself up into a rocky sitting position. Instinctively, he felt for the oilskin packet that had been tucked into his shirt-and his eyes widened in sudden horror as he found it was gone. He looked around frantically-and then relaxed as he saw it tucked on the tiny desk that was hard against the bunk bed. He sagged in relief.

"Morning," an unfamiliar voice said.

He stiffened and his eyes widened. Trying to curl back, he felt wood at his back and the strangeness made his body tense further. A shape moved into view, a husky guy about his height with solid thick body and rather short legs, all topped by a round face with kindly blue-green eyes, a pudding bowl blond cut and a bushy moustache. The man gave a small wave.

"I'm Fishlegs," the man introduced himself.

"H…" Hiccup began and then his brain cut in and he closed his eyes. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third had been convicted of treason about eleven years ago and condemned to die in Jotunheim. And, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, he was still in there. And would never emerge. He needed another option. "Ingen Dodmann," he said.

"No one dead man," Fish translated automatically and then he smiled and offered his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Ingen." Warily, Hiccup leaned forward and grasped the warm chubby hand and felt a firm and reassuring grip as they shook hands.

"I'm pleased to be here," he admitted. "Um…where are we?"

"Moored in Hangman's Cove off Glacier Island," Fishlegs explained. "You pretty much passed out after your coffee-not an unusual reaction to Tuff's barista skills-and we put you down here in my cabin. There's a bit of a storm blowing out there so the Barf'n'Belch is safer here. Of course, it delays us delivering our load but better to be late than not at all." Hiccup frowned.

"You don't seem like a usual smuggler," he commented. Fishlegs gave a sad smile.

"Yeah, people say that a lot," he admitted. "I grew up with the twins as friends and there really wasn't any work going where we were. I mean, I love botany and reptiles and birds but I couldn't afford college and they refused me a scholarship I qualified for because they needed the money for the relative of the First Minister to go-even though she didn't even need one." There was a brief edge to his voice which just as quickly passed. "So there really wasn't much option. And the twins wanted to be smugglers because they had a great uncle Gorstag who was a smuggler and it sounded cool."

"And is it?" Hiccup asked politely, trying to assess the man. He seemed kindly enough but his ability to trust had been completely eroded by his experiences.

"No, not really," Fishlegs sighed. "The twins are crazy and dangerous enough in their way but they really aren't focussed enough to be big players. Or ruthless enough to get us a reputation to play with the big boys. So we get low value missions and ripped off by most people. And the really serious groupings, like the Outcasts and the Trader Consortium, are really dangerous and I do worry that they may decide to wipe us out if they sense we are a threat." Hiccup swung his legs round and rubbed his left leg, wincing. The cold had made the stump ache and a few sharp phantom pains were stabbing him. Gobber had explained all about them but it hadn't made them any less excruciating and they had become old friends in the frigid cell. "Are you okay?"

Hiccup looked up at the concern in the man's voice and another stab of pain-this time in his heart-almost took his breath away. Gobber had sounded exactly the same when they hit and he could still recall the man's arm around his shoulders and his warm, experienced fingers kneading the scarred flesh to try to ease cramps and alleviate the pain. He blinked.

"Fine, thanks," he said tonelessly as Fishlegs frowned, then rose and opened the little drawer in the small desk and fished out a bottle. He handed it to Hiccup.

"Try these," he said. "I got them when I had an abscess. They may help." Warily, Hiccup peered at the bottle, found that they were painkillers and then tipped two out and swallowed them.

"Thanks," he said more genuinely. The big man gave a happy smile.

"Look, we need to get you some food and try to find some clothes," he said. "I'm making breakfast in the galley…wanna come?" Nodding, Hiccup levered himself up.

"Gladly," he said and followed the man out. The boat was bobbing slightly and Hiccup found his sea-legs were pretty solid as they clambered up to the galley, a narrow room that was almost completely filled by the husky Fishlegs. Managing to squeeze himself into the corner, Hiccup watched the man brew coffee, fry eggs and bacon and bread and cook beans and serve him up a huge tin plate of food. Eyes widening, Hiccup launched in ravenously, hunched over the plate as Fishlegs began his own meal, watching the skinny man with sympathetic eyes.

Fed and warmed by coffee, the men headed for wheelhouse and Hiccup peered at the charts with interest, his eyes drifting to a shape that he recognised from the map he had pored over for so many long hours in the cell. He was so close…but for now, he needed to regain his strength and try to get a means of transportation so he could travel to follow the clues on his own. Fishlegs tried a couple of times to start the engines and then he sighed as there was an unpleasant grinding noise.

"Again with the engine," he sighed as Hiccup frowned. "Barf'n'Belch is an old ship and her engines are rather…temperamental…"

"Au contraire, my fishy friend," Tuff said, appearing at the door and yawning. "She is a he."

"But ships are always female," Fishlegs pointed out.

"Not this one," Ruff argued, appearing beside her brother. "He's a boy all the way…"

"He's not moving anyway," Fishlegs replied with forced patience. Hiccup raised a hand.

"Um…I may be able to help…" he suggested tentatively. The twins were scowling at Fishlegs.

"How?" Tuff asked rudely. "Unless you happen to be a kick-ass mechanic or engineer, I doubt you can help." Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck.

"Ahaha…funny thing that…I'm both," he told them as they all started at him. "Look, I was wrongly condemned and have spent the last five years escaping but I am still an engineer. I built my aircraft from the ground up. He was a hulk and I basically rebuilt everything…" His voice had grown enthusiastic and his emerald eyes gleamed. The twins shared a look.

"Wow-and we believe you," Ruff said speaking for both of them. "You wanna take a look at the beating heart of our beautiful vessel?" He nodded and she beckoned him to follow her. They went down the hatch at the rear and he found himself in the engine room. Ruff shrugged. "Fishy has tinkered without much success and we try to keep my brother away because frankly, how he managed to dress himself in the morning is a miracle…anything you could do would be a help, to be honest." Hiccup nodded and frowned, then lifted the hatch, then peered at the engine. He looked at her.

"Any tools?" he asked and she found him the box, and then, adjusting the light, he leaned forward and began to explore.

Three hours later, grimy and streaked with oil, he sat back, satisfied. He had stripped back the main guts of the engine, cleaning, tightening and relubricating. There were a few old parts that would need changing in the next six months but the engine was basically sound. He wiped his forehead and carefully replaced the engine cover.

"Any good?" Ruff asked from behind him. He almost jumped and wiped his hands on his ragged pants.

"She'll do," he said. "Try her now." Ruff hauled him to his feet and they went up to the wheelhouse. Tuff was at the wheel and eagerly started the engine-to an immediate response, far smoother than it had sounded before. The twins high-fived and Fishlegs squeaked in happiness.

"Thank you!" Tuff yelled and threw a fierce hug around Hiccup. Ruff joined in, murmuring 'Thorston sandwich' as they squeezed him. He looked helplessly at Fishlegs, who was chuckling.

"I think they like you," the husky man said, assuming the wheel. "And this sounds much better than I've heard it."

"HIM!" the twins argued. Fishlegs chuckled and the twins glanced over.

"You know…I think you could be a good…no, great addition to our awesome crew," Tuff asked. "And if you're not in a hurry to get somewhere else…d'you wanna join us?"

There was a pause and Hiccup looked over at the twins and Fishlegs. They could all guess where he came from-and they didn't seem to care. All of them seemed reasonable though on the wrong side of the law…and it didn't have to be for ever. Just until he managed to get his bearings and recover a bit.

"I think…the life of a smuggler is just the career I've always been dreaming of," he told them dryly. The three all flung themselves at him and he found himself almost crushed by the multiple hug…but also, curiously relieved.

"Welcome to the crew," Fishlegs said.


	11. Through The Fog

**Eleven: Through the Fog**

The tendrils of fog were swirling around the remote port of Bunion on the Island of Sweltering as the twins waited for the handover. They had made several runs since Hiccup-as Ingen Dodmann-joined the crew and he had found himself settling into the life of a smuggler with surprising ease. He was an honest man but he had little trust in the authorities and after all his experiences in Jotunheim, he found himself thinking like the crooks with shocking ease. Taken on as engineer and additional muscle, Hiccup had been amazed at how the twins and Fish had accepted him unreservedly, clothing and feeding him and making him feel welcomed.

He shifted his feet-flesh and the newly upgraded metal one-and stepped back a little into the fog, peering across the meeting point. Since he had joined the crew, he had demonstrated his abilities at fighting by outmanoeuvring and pinning Fishlegs-though he had complained that Hiccup fought dirty every way he could. Smiling, the auburn-haired man had nodded.

"Fighting fair doesn't win you anything," he explained seriously. "Well, nothing except a life sentence for something you didn't do."

They hadn't pressed him because he held up his end of the deal, ensuring that the engines ran perfectly and that every mechanism on the boat was serviced and in top working order. He had requested a knife and had spent hours practicing throwing it until he was accurate enough to be useful back-up but he was getting a very bad feeling about this deal, because they were late and not showing any signs of getting on the exchange, which was very different to the previous handovers he had witnessed. And wrapped in newish _warm_ clothes, he was determined not to let his new friends down.

Tuff and Ruff were handling the exchange, negotiating for the four crates of chemicals they had been asked to take to bypass strict Berserker customs regulations and the Outcasts they were dealing with were sending out very bad vibes. Two squat men with dark duffle coats, bushy beards and questionable personal hygiene were facing the twins. Fishlegs was standing a couple of yards behind the twins and to Hiccup's mind, they all seemed to be far too easily blindsided-so he retreated further and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes briefly and listening.

There was the sound of a stone skittering along the concrete of the dockside and heavy breathing, not so very far to his left. He grasped the knife in his hand and tuned into the negotiations.

"As you ordered-and on time," Tuff said, gesturing to the crates. The heavyset man scowled over his rather wild beard and gave a loud snort.

"Ya think?" he scoffed in his gruff , he picked his nose and swept a scornful look over the two lanky shapes facing him. Bolstered by matching brown puffa jackets, the twins both looked serious and on point but there were more shapes moving in the fog to the left and right of the exchange and Hiccup realised that they were outflanked and outnumbered.

 _So why is this guy watching from here?_ Hiccup mused and stealthily moved towards the sounds of breathing-and the very slow but deliberate snap of a machine gun bolt. Tensing and praying he was still shrouded by the fog, he stuck to the shadows and came at the man from the side, slamming his hand over the man's mouth and driving the knife straight into his throat, the blade arching up deep into his brain. The man went slack and Hiccup carefully lowered him to the ground, retrieving the weapon and weighing it in his hands. He swiftly rubbed the knife dry on the man's clothing and then turned back to the confrontation.

"Hey, man-there's no need to be like this," Tuff was saying, his hands raised to try to reason with the Outcast but the man started laughing.

"I think our chemists will need these precursors and our profits will just be a bit higher if we don't have to pay for our delivery," the leader said and Ruff gave a loud whine.

"Aww, Hardnose-that was the wrong answer," she sighed. "Now we have to take the damned crates back and explain to the Meatheads why their deal went south…" Hardnose the Outcast gave a nasty chuckle and gestured to the two men on each side who coalesced from the fog. The twins shared a look.

"You are off our Snoggletog list!" Tuffnut told the man in a disappointed voice. "Sis-hand me my list…" But Ruff's eyes widened as she saw the Outcasts close on their position, the dull light gleaming off naked blades.

"Not the time…" she hissed.

"I think we need to renegotiate!" Hiccup announced from the fog and moved close enough for them to see the machine gun levelled at the Outcasts. "Back away, guys." Hardnose looked up, his eyes narrowing as the twins and Fishlegs obediently retreated.

"Who are you?" he growled.

"Dodmann," Hiccup told him sharply. "What you'll be if you move a muscle." Hardnose frowned. "And sorry-your buddy won't be joining you." He gestured with the machine gun. "Unless you are stupid enough to move when you can join him. I hear Helheim is nice this time of year…"

"Any shots will bring the filth," Hardnose advised him but Hiccup managed a thin smile.

"And all they'll find a bunch of dead Outcasts and their illegal cargo," he pointed out. "Unlikely anyone will shed a tear or put too much effort into finding your killers. Probably be eligible for a medal for public service, in fact." And he turned very slightly to ensure that Hardnose would definitely the first to fall.

"I may…have been a bit hasty…" the Outcast growled.

"I may be a bit lenient…if you pay the agreed fee plus…say twenty percent? For inconvenience?" Hiccup told him, his voice lowering to a growl that approximated his father's thick Berk accent. Eyes flicking sideways at his men, who were all looking as worried at the reversal, Hardnose nodded urgently.

"Just a small misunderstanding," he gabbled quickly and patted his pockets, swiftly pulling out a bundle of hundred dollar bills. "I have the money here." He fished a second one out. "In fact, here's the same again…just as a gesture of good faith. Yes, good faith…" He tossed both to the twins who shared a look and then high-fived.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Ruff grinned and the pair and Fishlegs backed away and vanished into the swirling fog. Hiccup backed away as well.

"You should probably take your goods before something else happens," he suggested and watched the Outcasts cluster around the crates and lift them up. But when Hardnose looked up to check, the man with the gun had melted into the gloom.

Back on the Barf'n'Blech, the twins were waiting eagerly as Hiccup trotted up, the machine gun still held in his hand. Grinning they waved the bundles of cash.

"That was awesome!" Tuff gushed as Hiccup cast off and hopped aboard. He nodded.

"Better leave," he advised them.

"But you were so amazing, my man…" the male twin ploughed on obliviously as Hiccup looked past him at Fishlegs.

"Right now," Hiccup said sternly and the husky man scuttled to the wheelhouse, starting the engine and moving them away. The twins stared at him. "They'll want their money back," he added.

"But they've got their delivery," Tuff protested.

"And they didn't want to pay at all and were happy to kill you all," Hiccup told them, swinging the gun. "I didn't get this from the Seven Eleven. They were happy to kill you to save paying you. And now that we're out of sight, they are just as likely to try to get their money back." The twins shared a look.

"Now that is just plain dishonest!" Tuff said.

"Very very dishonest!" Ruff agreed. "Honestly, if you can't trust a drug dealing syndicate, who can you trust?"

"A good point," Hiccup replied sarcastically. "Are you two sure you're actually smugglers?" The twins burst out laughing.

"Of course we are-and we've actually made a profit for once!" Tuff exclaimed. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"You mean you don't actually make a profit usually?" he asked and they nodded.

"We don't want to price ourselves out of the market…" Ruff explained. There was a slap as Hiccup face-palmed.

"The only reason for doing this is to make a profit," he explained in an exasperated voice.

"But we really _really_ wanted to be smugglers," Tuff told him simply. "And we haven't been doing it this long so we don't want to get a bad reputation…"

"As opposed to being dead or penniless…" Hiccup pointed our sarcastically. They stared at him. "The guy I killed was there to gun you all down. The Outcasts didn't care that you were on time or reasonably priced: they just looked at their bottom line. So you have to do the same. And in this business, loyalty really isn't worth squat. Friendship is certainly worthless. So you have to charge what you can get away with, make sure you are safe and expect to be double-crossed at every turn. Only make drops at locations of your choice where you can be sure that you are not exposed to ambush. And be ruthless."

"Like you?" Ruff realised. Nodding, Hiccup turned away, lowering the gun.

"I used to run a freight service-and I was betrayed by my partner, my supposed best friend, and he set me up while stealing everything I had," he said bitterly. "No loyalty, no friendship, no decency…nothing there but personal gain above everything else. Don't trust people to deliver…they always disappoint."

And with that, he headed below decks, leaving the twins sharing a very concerned glance.

oOo

Hiccup was lying on his bunk, staring at the wooden base of Fishlegs' bunk above his when the husky man knocked and entered. It always struck Hiccup that the man, whose cabin it was, fastidiously ensured that he gained permission to enter when the ex-prisoner was already within. It said a lot about Fishlegs and he felt himself relax slightly, his hand moving away from the knife he now kept under his pillow. The husky man walked in and closed the door, sitting uncomfortably on the small wooden chair opposite the bunks. Counting to ten and realising Fishlegs wanted to talk to him-probably on behalf of the crew-he sat up and swung his legs round to face the man.

"You okay, Fish?" he asked quietly, seeing anxiety in the other man's big face. Fish nodded.

"Fine, thanks-because of you," he admitted. He glanced around. "Um…are you warm enough?" Smiling slightly, Hiccup nodded.

"Yes, thanks," he said. And he was. Once he had settled in, the twins and Fishlegs had found him an undershirt, a think flannel check shirt, a pair of thick jeans too large for his skinny frame, a large knitted green sweater that hung from his lanky frame and a woollen hat. There were three thick blankets on his bunk and Fishlegs made sure the heating was always on in the cabin. "Okay, Fish-what's bothering you?" Fiddling with his thick fingers, the husky man looked up.

"Ingen…" he began and then sighed. "That's not your real name, is it?"

"No," Hiccup said. "My real name has to remain in Jotunheim until I am cleared or until I die." Fishlegs sighed.

"But it seems so wrong to call you no one when you are someone-and someone who saved our lives," Fishlegs protested. "I mean, you came from the sea and it's like you were meant to be with the crew and you've given us so much…" Hiccup shifted his feet.

"I think you all gave me more," he said slowly. "I was about to die and you gave me a chance of survival. A future. You accepted me without hesitation. And when I saw what was happening, I couldn't let you die." Fishlegs looked troubled.

"I-I know it's none of my business…but after this evening I have to ask," he said awkwardly. "Um…what were you in for?" Hiccup stared at him. "Was it murder?"

Suddenly Hiccup was laughing: bitter, harsh laughter that filled the cabin, growing more and more hysterical until he was barely able to breathe for the choking sobs that shuddered through him, until he covered his face and curled forward. Tentatively, there was an arm around his shoulders, a warm presence that hugged him until he finally gathered control of himself.

"I was innocent," he whispered brokenly. "I never committed any crimes…until I went in there."

Fishlegs sat next to him, his solid presence crowding the space and yet comforting just for the fact he was another human being, in close proximity to Hiccup and his warmth and solidity a welcome and oh-so necessary reminder that he wasn't alone.

"I'm sorry," Fishlegs said sympathetically, his face apologetic. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…but I hope you realise that I am your friend and I am never going to tell anyone what you say." He patted Hiccup's shoulder self-consciously. "I know I can't even imagine what you've been through…I mean, it sounds like anyone's worst nightmare, being locked up for a crime you didn't commit…" Hiccup nodded, idly palming his face dry. He was still bearded, clinging to the anonymity even though he had seriously contemplated removing the hair because he associated it with his imprisonment. He had cut his hair to his jawline, the soft auburn locks messy and framing his pale, lightly freckled face and that at least had made him feel a little more human.

"Yeah, it is," he mumbled, rubbing his swollen eyes. "And you know the weird thing? Before, I was really…conscious of what I did. Thor, I always bought free range chicken and yak to make sure that they lived a good life! I tried to be a decent, kind human being. I always helped when I could because my Dad always told me 'no job is ever too small or too insignificant' and he believed in a life of service and dedication. He taught me that a man should give what he could to the community and his community would support him in his time of need." And then his face closed. "But it was a lie."

"Was it?" Fishlegs asked gently, his eyes noting the changes in Hiccup's mood. There was grief and sorrow but also anger and bitterness at the betrayal he had experienced. Emerald eyes flicking up to look into the husky man's face, Hiccup nodded.

"My business partner, my former best friend had issues," he explained. "We were buddies at High School and when I went to College, I decided to set up my own air freight company. I loved to fly, to be free. I funded my own lessons and up there, among the clouds, I felt…free…" Fishlegs felt his heart shudder in horror: for a man who sought the freedom of the skies, being locked in a dark stone room for years on end was the most appalling punishment. "I bought an almost scrapped plane and rebuilt him myself using my mechanical and engineering skills. And we used him for the business-but my partner had issues. He was distracted, fond of the finer things in life. He got drunk, did some drugs, gambled extremely badly and a lot…and every time, he came to me asking for money. I helped him where I could, but his debts spiralled and there was no hope I could bail him out-nor should I have to. We offered interventions, mediation, even counselling…but he refused and just expected to be bailed out. And then he said he was pressurised by some very bad men to deliver a package, a suitcase to Icefell, the stronghold of the terrorist Drago Bludvist."

"Who were these people?" Fishlegs asked as Hiccup frowned.

"You know, I have no idea," he murmured.

"They certainly knew who he was and must have targeted your friend because he had the capability to deliver the package…away from prying eyes," Fishlegs commented. Hiccup nodded.

"Makes sense," he sighed. "I refused and Eret tried to blame me, tried to guilt-trip me into helping him. And then he called out when he was supposed to make the delivery. He begged me to make the delivery. He cried over the phone…and I, like the soft idiot I was, relented. I believed I was helping him-so I made the delivery. And when I got back, I found the bastard had called the authorities and I was arrested for making the drop the moment I touched back down."

"But you have the phone records…" Fishlegs commented.

"And all that showed was that he had called me just before the flight," Hiccup sighed. "I thought about it every which way I could and it proved nothing. He claimed he called me to try to talk me out of the horrible treason I was committing in helping the most dangerous terrorist on the planet to overthrow the Archipelago government. And that I wouldn't listen."

"Who filed the flight plan?" Fishlegs asked. Hiccup's eyes widened.

"Eret," he breathed. "I mean, he claimed he only did it on my insistence…but he filed it. He knew about the flight and should have prevented it…"

"He was an accessory," Fishlegs commented. "I am sure he cut a deal. Because that action ties him to the deeds and crime in a conspiracy."

"He claimed the fact that he was not there meant he didn't know about the suitcase or the delivery," Hiccup recalled and slapped his forehead. "Stupid! He should have been charged as well-and he must have cut a deal. A friend commented I should only have been charged with a misdemeanour for flying into a restricted airspace because there was no proof what was in the suitcase or that I had any idea what was within. But after the opening statements, the judge insisted I was charged with treason and Eret lied that I knew exactly what was within. Despite the fact I never opened it."

"It sounds like the conspiracy involved more than one person-and you weren't in on it," Fishlegs mused thoughtfully. His eyes unfocussed. "This Eret-your supposed friend, the person who recruited him to take the suitcase, the prosecutor who cut the deal with him…and the judge, who insisted you were accused of a crime that could not be supported by the evidence."

Hiccup's shoulders hunched.

"You know the Prosecutor promised me leniency," he murmured. "He promised that I would not suffer for something as minor as helping a friend and delivering a locked case that I could not open. He knew that Eret was involved. And he set me up." He clasped his hands. " _He set me up!_ He was involved."

"Anything else you remember?" Fishlegs asked as Hiccup's brow furrowed.

"RKG," he mumbled. "The initials on the case, almost rubbed off. Prosecutor Grimborn promised he would look into it-and so did my Dad and Astrid. But my Dad reported in the few letters he could get through that Grimborn blocked every attempt to reopen the case and allow an appeal. Dad even went to the Island Council and moved for Grimborn to be replaced as Prosecutor for incompetence and corruption. I guess, by the fact I spent the next ten years in Jotunheim, that he was unsuccessful."

"Prosecutor Grimborn? As in First Minister Grimborn?" Fishlegs asked, his eyes widening. Hiccup groaned.

"Figures," he commented sarcastically. "Bastard probably made his reputation on the back of my case…" There was an awkward pause. "What?"

"He was elected on a platform of being super-tough on criminality and cracking down on all crime," Fishlegs explained in a self-conscious voice. "He never granted leniency, he never considered any mitigation or appeal and he crushed any opposition." He shuffled his feet. "After I went to the community college, I was training as a public defender but my face didn't fit and I was unfortunately reasonably successful in ruining his 100% conviction rate…so he ensured my registration with the Archipelago Bar was terminated and my pupilage was withdrawn. No one would hire me…so when the twins, my friends decided their only option was smuggling…what else did I have to lose?"

Hiccup inspected his face and chewed his lip. The bigger man's words threw up all sorts of questions. Why did the ornery people of Berk allow this? What had happened to his father? And how could he risk visiting his home when the place was almost a police state? And then he shook himself.

"So the only criminals he prosecutes are the ones who aren't in his favour while the corruption and criminality in his regime goes unchecked…" he commented sarcastically. Fishlegs scratched his nose.

"One point," he murmured. "RKG. Maybe the G stands for Grimborn? I know the First Minister has a brother who is also on the Council of Ministers…" Hiccup's eyes widened and he pressed his hands together, as if praying.

"So the moment I mentioned the initials, I was lost," he breathed. "That bastard. That corrupt, evil, amoral, lying bastard! He was protecting himself. And his traitor of a brother!" His fists clenched. "And if they are that ruthless and would condemn an innocent man to die in prison, what happened to my family? To my father and the woman I love? Because they would not have given up on me-and going after such a ruthless man… They're in danger…" Fishlegs sighed.

"Whatever happened, it was a long time ago," he reminded his friend. "And for you to go back to Berk would be very dangerous if what you think is correct…" He sighed. "We can smuggle you in, if you want…but what are you going to do? No offence, but you don't have any money, only us as allies and no way of proving what you suspect."

Hiccup clasped his hands before his face and he gave a small smile.

"True," he murmured. "But I have a way of solving one of those. And I need your help."


	12. The Isle of Night

**Twelve: The Isle of Night.**

"Let me get this straight, dude," Tuff said with a suspicious look in his eyes. "You have a map so you can get an ancient lost treasure that no one believes in, that your friend spent his life searching for in vain and that you reckon you know the location of when no one else does."

"My godfather," Hiccup corrected him and then nodded. He was perched on the table in the small communal room with a bank of built in seating along one side and the table on the other with a TV screen strapped to the wall behind him. The twins and Fishlegs were sitting facing him as he explained about Grimbeard's Treasure. "But yes."

"Get outta here!" the male twin scoffed. "I mean, why would you know where it is when no one else does?" Hiccup paused.

"Because Gobber wasn't a conventional treasure hunter or archaeologist so he approached it like an engineer and was cynical about everything. He went right back to the earliest sources and challenged everything. Gobber was also pretty amoral and direct so he did things people would never do, like breaking open pictures and damaging priceless documents and books to check and found clues that were not previously known. And because I am a pilot with a photographic memory for maps…and I know this island shape." He turned and reached for the chart he had rolled by him, carefully unrolling it on the table and weighing down the corners with two mugs, a serving spoon and a tin chicken that Tuff stored the galley eggs in. He leaned over the chart as the others crowded around him, almost pinning him against the table. The twins were nudging and whispering as he sighed.

"Guys!" Fishlegs hissed and they quietened down. Hiccup's finger slid down the map, southeast of Berk and south of the familiar shape of Outcast Island to a small blobby shape.

"This is the Island of Night, so named as the purported location of the legendary Night Fury dragon according the Bork Archive in Berk Museum," Hiccup explained, tapping his finger on the shape. "This fact is confirmed by old maps, surveys and every historical source."

"Okay," Ruff murmured. "So why haven't they found the treasure?"

Hiccup pulled out his map and carefully unfolded it, dropping it on the chart next to the island.

"Because that isn't the ' _Isle_ of Night'," he said. They all stared. The blobby shape on the chart certainly didn't match the shape on the parchment, a shape that looked like some kind of parasitic worm, curled to the right and looking as if it was trying to eat a medium sized islet and three sea stacks to its left. Hiccup's finger slid up the chart, a long way east and north to the remote reaches of the region, a very long way northeast of the familiar shape of Berk, technically beyond the reaches of the Archipelago, out in International Waters where there was an island shape that exactly matched the shape on the map. There was the sound of three sets of breath been taken in very sharply. " _This_ island is what Grimbeard referred to as 'the Isle of Night'. But it isn't."

"No wonder no one ever found it," Fishlegs breathed. "Everyone has been looking in the wrong place."

"What-you seriously expect us to believe that remote uninhabited island is in fact the place where Grimbeard the Grisly, a seriously messed-up and ferocious dude, ended up with most of the treasure from the entire Archipelago?" Tuff asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Hiccup said with absolute confidence. "Everyone assumed that the island shape had changed over the years due to volcanic activity, erosion, storms…but the truth is that only Caldera Cay has erupted since Grimbeard's time and the very hard rocks of the Archipelago erode very slowly. The entire island shape wouldn't have changed over only a thousand years."

"They assumed it had to be in the Archipelago," Fishlegs breathed.

"No engineer assumes," Hiccup confirmed. "He uses the evidence he gathers to solve the problem. The only island which matches is outside the Archipelago-an island that is recorded in the old Chronicles not as 'the Isle of Night' but as 'Dragon's Edge'."

They all stared at him in shock. That he had worked this out over long years in prison with his dear companion and late godfather and was willing to trust them with his secret was a huge mark of his respect for them and they all felt honoured by the gesture. The twins shared a look and hugged Hiccup while Fishlegs pressed a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Ingen-we promise we will help you find your treasure," he said as Hiccup look up at him and then felt the twins kiss him as well. He looked worried.

"Um…thanks…" he mumbled. "Guys…can't breathe?"

"Sorry…" Ruff grinned prising her brother off the tense Hiccup. "He gets carried away." Nodding, Hiccup took a deep breath.

"Um…I suspect it will be all our treasure…" he told them and then he sighed. "Gobber was going to share it with me as his godson and his partner in escape…well, he was once he realised who I was and decided not to ditch me when he escaped. I don't want to be that guy. You have all saved my life when I was in the sea and you have accepted me even though I have nothing, not even my own name. You have given me food, clothes, safety and acceptance. So I will share the treasure with you."

The three all shared a look.

"It's your treasure, Ingen," Fishlegs said seriously. "We will help you find it and help you get home so you can see your family and check they are safe. And then you can decide if you want to split it or not."

"I…" Hiccup protested but Ruff gently touched his arm.

"Look-we would all be dead by now if you hadn't saved us," she told him. "We owe you all our lives. We expect nothing…expect maybe the cost of a new kettle? The amount of cups of coffee you drink since you joined the crew has almost worn it out." Hiccup stared at the woman and then the others-and burst out laughing.

"Really?" he asked and they all started laughing as well. "I have told you where to find the most fabulous treasure in the world which should make you rich beyond your wildest dreams…and all you want is a kettle?"

"And maybe a new toaster?" Tuff asked hopefully. "A four slice one? So we can all have a piece of toast at once? Or pop tarts all round? I love them! Especially the jammy ones. Or maybe even…a sandwich maker? Now that would be really cool…" But Hiccup was now helpless with laughter, tears trickling down his cheeks at the absurdity of the request and the genuine good-heartedness of people who wouldn't expect a share of someone else's treasure. As the tall auburn-haired man continued to laugh at the fact he had finally unexpectedly found people he felt he could really trust, Ruff gave an exasperated nudge to her brother.

"You see?" she hissed. "Idiot! I knew the sandwich maker was just too much!"

oOo

They stopped in MuttonPort on the Shivering Shores for supplies, using the money they had gotten off the Outcasts to completely fill Barf'n'Belch's tanks and stock up the galley and stores until they were bursting. Hiccup carefully bought a new kettle for the galley and a four-slice toaster and a sandwich maker out of his cut and the twins were overjoyed.

"Cheese and ham toasted sandwiches all round!" Tuff yelled and sped back onto the docks to go and buy the ingredients. Smiling, Hiccup watched him head for the local branch of Sven's Stores, the Archipelago-wide convenience chain that was found on every island and in every settlement. _You knew where you were in a Sven's_. And Tuff clearly did because he came racing back two minutes later with a hessian shopping bag bulging with cheese, ham, bread, butter, jam, honey and bananas. The dockhands just shook their heads, because the twins were relatively frequent visitors and everyone knew Tuffnut was prone to fits of wild enthusiasm. Waving, they cast the Barf'n'Belch off and Fishlegs waved back as they sedately pulled out of the harbour and headed out into the sea.

While Tuff was cooking the sandwiches, the ship swung north, on a course that would skirt them east of Healers' Island and the around the desolate unstable island of Dark Deep and then north towards their destination. Hiccup plotted the course twice and Fishlegs and Ruff both checked it, confirming it was correct and safe for the ship. Almost bouncing with nervousness, Hiccup paced back and forth past the wheel as Fishlegs sedately steered them out and then accelerated to cruising speed, checking the radio and flicking off their navigational locator, though the satellite navigation system remained on, scanning for other vessels. And then Tuff arrived with hot squishy cheese and ham toasted sandwiches, banana and honey toasted sandwiches and a fresh pot of hot coffee. He grinned.

"Eat up, mi amigos!" he grinned. "We need strength for this valorous endeavour! And cheers to Ingen who has made sure we have pop tarts for tea!"

"Thor, we'll all have malnutrition by the time we arrive," Ruff commented. Fish bit his excellent sandwich and hummed in enjoyment.

"Though I would die happy," he commented.

The trip continued, the weather capricious with fierce storms interspersed with strong winds, fogs and brilliant sunshine. Barf'n'Belch chugged steadily along, riding the waves as the crew headed up towards the island that no one knew probably held an incredible treasure. Sometimes, they saw fishing boats and even small boats that also had no transponder, suggesting they were smugglers as well…but there were no destinations that needed people to smuggle between in the area. Hiccup crossed his fingers and hoped against hope that none of them were using the island as a base…but he reckoned that it would be just his luck to find a group of the worst smugglers parked just above the treasure.

The twins were in turns excited and concerned and Fishlegs pored over the map with Hiccup, enthralled by the rhymes and wondering what they meant. Hiccup smiled.

"That time we went to Meathead to deliver those bales of purple silk for Mayor Mogadon's underthings, I slipped to the Library and borrowed a couple of books," he explained, fishing out two leather-bound tomes. THE BOOK OF DRAGONS and CHRONICLES OF THE EDGE were reverently laid on the table as Fishlegs stared at the auburn-haired man, seeing the small smile tilt his lips.

"You stole those books?" he squeaked in mock-outrage, though his pudgy hand was already stretching out to touch the legendary Book of Dragons. Hiccup gave a thin smile and nodded, shrugging at the admission.

"Yeah, prison has really worked wonders for my rehabilitation," he commented sarcastically. "I entered there not even ever having a parking ticket and once in there, I fought and killed about a dozen men and since escaping, I've come a smuggler and a thief. Boy, that was a _really_ successful way to protect the public!" Fishlegs stared at him and then began chuckling, Hiccup didn't really speak of his time in prison so when he revealed a snippet, it was eagerly pounced on by his friend. Fishlegs already knew that he liked the skinny auburn-haired fugitive, with his razor wit, sarcastic tongue and genuine kindness and loyalty to the crew. From his broken confession, Fishlegs knew that 'Ingen' had been betrayed by those he trusted most but he had been still willing to offer his trust and loyalty to the crew, despite that. And the plate of pop tarts steaming by them was another mark of the generosity of a man who literally only had what he stood up in…but who was hoping that he maybe could have so much more. And the husky man hoped that he was right-because he couldn't imagine what the fugitive would do if he found there was no treasure.

The Barf'n'Belch circled the island slowly, seeing snow-capped conical peaks typical of the volcanic islands in the Archipelago and beyond, spectacular cliffs, some rather nice beaches, rolling green meadows, spruce forests stretching down to the coast and finally, in the natural harbour that faced the islet and sea stacks, there were ruins. The twins scanned the area and found an old abandoned harbour and managed to locate a safe mooring. Finally, the engine stopped and the crew all stole a look at the deserted mooring before they looked at Hiccup.

"Over to you," Ruff said. For a moment, Hiccup looked uncertain and then he peered at his notes and the map. Flicking through the Chronicles of the Edge, he tapped a finger on one slightly stained page.

"The first rhyme is:

_In Smidvarg's Lair keep your head,_

_The sun shall point your way ahead,"_

he said thoughtfully. "Now I have ready the Chronicles carefully and…"

"Dude-this is in foreign," Tuff pointed out. "Look. It's not even written properly…"

"Those are ancient runes," Fishlegs told him, peering at the page. "Wait-you can read these?" Hiccup nodded.

"Taught when I was a boy-to please my Dad…though I did thank Thor that I had," he commented and turned back to the page. _"We named the leader of the Night Terrors 'Smidvarg' and noted they spent the day sleeping in the caves above the Outpost,"_ he read and then looked up the path and steps carved out of the cliff. "That must be the Outpost. So in the slopes above, there will be a cave with the first clue." Tuff peered at the sky.

"Not much sun," he commented. "Maybe we should come back in the summer?"

"Not a hope," Ruff snapped. "By then someone else will definitely have found it!" She looked apologetically at Hiccup. "No offence but with Ingen's luck, we'd arrive to see someone sailing off with the lot!"

"None taken-and I was thinking the same myself," Hiccup commented dryly. "But to satisfy my curiosity about the 0.001% chance that something hideously dreadful won't happen, shall we head on up and see if we can find the cave?" The twins shared a look and then ran off up the steep steps while Fishlegs fell into step alongside Hiccup. It was obvious to Fishlegs that the metal leg he was using as a prosthetic was crudely made and wasn't that comfortable but he brushed off any attempts at prying about what happened. "I woke up and it was gone," was as much as he would offer.

"You okay?" Fishlegs offered. Hiccup nodded, his hand hovering protectively over the satchel he had slung across his body. His gait was uneven, the solid clunk of the metal leg hitting the stone step a contrast with the much softer, more careful tread of his real foot and his friend worried that he may slip but Hiccup was dogged and as they clambered past the ruins of Viking houses and what looked like a couple of storerooms in the centuries-abandoned outpost, then further up the shallower slope towards the caves. It was eerie, knowing this was once a thriving little settlement but was now fallen to ruin and the quiet was unnerving. Fishlegs was certain that he would not have coped with the isolation of being locked up for years on end in solitary confinement: coming from a large and bustling family, even being alone on the ship while the twins were on shore made him feel nervous.

"This is infinitely better than being in Jotunheim," Hiccup told him honestly. "I mean my leg is hurting and I have no clue what is happening and I am really scared that everything will prove to be a dead end and this hope will be dashed…but I would rather be here than another second in the prison."

Fishlegs's eyes widened and his mind reeled at the brief and sudden insight into his friend's thinking.

"I am here for you-whatever happens," he promised as Hiccup paused to catch his breath-and then he smiled.

"You're a good man, Fish," he commented. "I probably don't deserve you."

The twins were almost bouncing up and down with excitement at the mouth of the cave as the other two caught them up. Hiccup fished out a torch he had brought from the ship and they carefully walked into the gloomy space, peering at the high roof and the rough walls with nooks and crannies that would be ideal for whatever a 'Night Terror' had been. Leading the way fearlessly, Hiccup scanned the space and frowned.

"The sun will point your way ahead," he murmured. "The sun, the sun…" And he peered over his shoulder at the mouth of the cave, shuffling his position until he approximated the angle of the rising sun, which was the only time when the sun would be able to shine directly into the cave and he said a small prayer. And then aimed the beam of his torch straight ahead. The far wall lit up and as he walked closer, past the fallen boulders and the stalagmites, he could see symbols. Breaths hitching, he ran forward and stared at the map scrawled there, with symbols scrawled round the edge of the shape of the island.

"That is big picture," Tuff commented, walking around. Frowning, he dropped to his knees behind the rock and peered at the oviform rock tucked there, the surface stippled and a variety of green and grey shades. He lifted it up. "Funny rock…" he announced. Ruff scampered to his side.

"Is there one for me?" she asked but Tuff peered into the gloom and shook his head.

"Sorry, sis," he apologised. "You can have the next really cool thing we find…"

"Okay-but you do realise that you have to carry that thing around," Ruff told him. "On your own. Without my help." Tuff grinned.

"I have no problem with that," he said as they looked up-to see Hiccup carefully copying out the map, meticulously checking the position of every symbol and ensuring he didn't miss a single clue.

"OOOH-this is so exciting," Fishlegs enthused. "I wonder what these symbols mean?" Hiccup frowned.

"I've seen them before," he murmured and lowered his pencil. And then his eyes widened as he saw Tuff hugging what was almost certainly an old and dead dragon egg. "They're dragon class symbols from the Book of Dragons!" His eyes widened and he peered at them, double checking he had copied them correctly. "Strike, Mystery, Stoker, Tracker, if I recall correctly…" And then he sighed. "Night Terrors were dragons, weren't they?"

"Stoker Class," Fishlegs said unexpectedly. "What? I collected Dragon Cards when I was a kid. I had the full set, every dragon, every classification. I think I still have my albums at home…" Hiccup peered at the map and carefully circled the Stoker Class symbol. Then he smiled.

"I wonder what the star means," he mused and then he looked up. "You know what this means?" he asked his friends and they all looked at him. Tuff stuck his hand up.

"Ooh! Me! Me! Me!" he said urgently.

"Yes, Tuff?" Hiccup asked patiently.

"We're gonna find dragons here?" the male twin said. "Because that would be seriously awesome!" Ruff slapped his shoulder.

"Idiot!" she snapped. "It means we're got some very complicated puzzle to solve that requires the joint input of Thorston and Thorston, former Private Investigators!" Tuff scowled.

"And who are we going to privately investigate here?" he retorted. "The trees? The birds?" She walked over to him and leaned her forehead aggressively against his, glaring into his eyes.

"Anything could require our investigative and unique synthetic abilities," she growled. Hiccup glanced over at Fishlegs in surprise as they continued to yell at each other from a distance of about an inch. The abrupt change in atmosphere was fairly unnerving-but the husky man was relaxed and shrugged philosophically.

"They do this every so often," he revealed. "I think they've been on best behaviour around you because of your recent history…you know. They didn't want to upset you. I guess they think you may feel enough of the crew now and secure enough to behave normally…" Eyes widening, Hiccup stared at the warring twins.

"Guys!" he said sharply and they both looked at him in shock. "I'm touched-but I need all three of you on point. And preferably not killing each other…" The twins both exhaled.

"Sorry," Ruff said. "We kind of just…well, it's how we communicate, y'know? I mean, I've had Tuff with me every day since we were conceived and we sometimes forget that other people are here. Don't worry…" Tuff nodded, a proud smile on his face at the egg he was still hugging.

"We'll go get the bikes and head to the next place," he said. "I think you said it was in the centre of the island?" Hiccup nodded.

"Viggo's Fall," he revealed.

"A waterfall?" Fishlegs asked but Hiccup shook his head.

"I don't think so," he murmured as they walked to the mouth of the cave. He led them round to the view towards the interior of the island and pointed at the snow-capped, conical peak. "According to the Chronicle of Dragon's Edge, Viggo's Fall was high up there-on the lip of the volcano itself."


	13. Vindicated

**Thirteen: Vindicated**

Hiccup was hanging on for dear life as Tuffnut accelerated up the slope, his eyes fixed on the peak ahead and dreadlocks flying around his head.

"Isn't this awesome?" he asked excitedly, gunning the engine. "I never thought taking you on board would lead to so much awesome fun!"

"Always glad to be of service," Hiccup muttered, gritting his teeth as they jolted over a solidified magma flow. "If I have a spine left at the end of this…"

"Aww, man-this is amazing fun," Tuff told him, slewing round a cluster of boulders and surging up the slope. "I mean, my sis is on our tail and I am not going to be the one who does the Thorston forfeit…" Hiccup blinked in surprise.

"Um…what forfeit?" he asked.

"Well, if I win, we swap clothes so she has to wear my clothes!" Tuff told him simply as Hiccup frowned and ran the words through his head.

"Whereas, if she wins…?" he checked.

"We swap clothes and I have to wear hers….bleurgh!" Tuff confirmed.

"You know that makes no sense, right?" Hiccup asked him directly and Tuff chuckled.

"Probably-but we've been doing it since were were kids so it would feel weird not to carry on," he admitted. "I mean, when we were babies, our Mom dressed us both in pink because she only wanted a girl so I was in dresses until I was nearly two."

"Why did Fish squeal when Ruff insisted that he ride with her?" Hiccup asked, glancing over his shoulder at the wild shape of Ruffnut, riding the bike like an expert motocross rider with the husky shape of Fishlegs reluctantly sitting behind her, holding on for dear life. The male twin shook his head, surging forward again.

"Sister Nut loves the beefcake," he revealed. "Or is it lardy cake? Anyhow, she fancies him as her permanent plaything. I don't know how he feels…"

"And you're okay with that?" Hiccup asked, feeling Tuff shift his weight as they headed to the right.

"Of course not," Tuff said. "I mean, she's my sister and I want her to be safe and happy…I mean, we've been fighting since before we were born. Mom told us when we were born, the midwife said we both had foot-shaped bruises from kicking each other. But I know Fish and I know he's an okay guy. I just can't imagine my sister with anyone…" Hiccup winced as they skidded to a halt at the top of the mountain and Tuff kicked the stand down, then threw his arms into the air.

"I win!" he yelled as Ruff screeched to a halt a yard to their left.

"Oh man…" she grumbled as Hiccup waved his arms urgently.

"Please can you do your forfeit when you go back to the ship," he said, clambering off the motorcycle onto shaking legs. Breathing hard, he leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees. "And thank Thor, I'm alive…"

"Thank Thor I'm alive-thank you thank you thank you…" Fishlegs was muttering, walking around and trying to calm his breathing. Hiccup forced himself to stand upright and walked over to clap the man on the shoulder.

"Catch your breath," he reassured the husky man and then he walked slowly towards the edge. There was a definite stench of rotten eggs and the air was shimmering with a flesh-melting heat beyond the drop. Hiccup cautiously peered over, looking at the lava pond in the crater and staring. The slowly oozing molten rock was awe-inspiring and terrifying at the same time and he instinctively backed away from the edge of the drop, the rocks a crumbly mixture of brittle pumice and basalt.

_"_ _On Viggo's Fall, the flames are hot_

_Eruptodon, eat your fill,_

_If it be cool, worry not_

_Gronckles will feed you still,"_

he murmured.

"That certainly would be a bad fall," Ruff said from about three inches behind him. He jumped and almost lost his balance, his arms windmilling as he tried not to pitch over the drop. Ruff grabbed him and hauled him back. "Easy, Ingen. Don't wanna drop down there!"

"Gah! Please don't do that!" he exclaimed as she grinned.

"What-saving your life?" she teased him.

"Taking a few more years off my life!" he snapped and she chuckled.

"Better than all of them," she murmured as he shook himself and carefully walked parallel to the edge, seeing a rocky outcrop and frowning.

"This would certainly be a bad place for a fall," Fishlegs said, walking up and squinting over the edge.

"What's an Eruptodon?" Tuff asked.

"A dragon that lives in the lava, that eats the lava. Boulder class," the husky man said promptly, his tone slightly lecturing.

"Cool. D'you think there may be one in there?" the male twin asked, crawling to the edge and peering over. Fishlegs shrugged.

"Probably not-because the dragons all vanished many centuries ago," he explained. "Though Eruptodons have to constantly eat lava. Maybe it couldn't actually travel to wherever they went. Maybe there is one in there. Who knows?" Tuff leaned even further over the edge and the rock began to crumble-but Hiccup flung himself forward and grabbed the man's ankles, arresting his potentially fatal dive into the lava. Tuff screamed and Ruff did simultaneously, almost as loud. Lying on his front, his shoulders burning, Hiccup gritted his teeth and tightened his grip.

"Any moment now," Hiccup muttered, slowly inching backwards and starting to pull the male twin back up. "And STOP SQUIRMING!" Fishlegs yelped and knelt by him, grabbing one of Tuff's ankles and he and Hiccup dragged Tuff back over the edge. The male twin was rigid, his face scorched red with the heat.

"OH. MY. THOR!" he exclaimed. "That was…"

"If you say awesome, I am pushing you back over the edge," Hiccup grumbled, grimacing as he rubbed his right shoulder. The jerk had been fierce and it felt like he had pulled something. Tuff cast him a glance.

"Scary. Hot. Amazing. And scary again!" he replied as his sister hauled him up and hugged him fiercely.

"Don't ever do that again," she told him genuinely. "I refuse to do anything alone, Brother Nut. Ever!" Hiccup sighed.

"Stay away from the edge. Please?" he asked as the twins continued hugging. But as he rose, he saw something outlined obliquely in the rocks, the scratches more obvious in relief than looking at them directly. Scrambling up, he headed for the outcrop, peering at the weathered rocks and realising there was a map cut into the stone, the outline almost weathered away. Aching shoulders forgotten, he snatched out his paper and swiftly but accurately traced then drew the island and the symbols. And then his eyes widened and he pulled out the previous drawing. Meticulously, he marked the symbols on the map from Smidvarg's cave.

"Ooh-are those different symbols?" Fishlegs asked, peering over his shoulder and Hiccup nodded, carefully drawing.

"Boulder, Tidal and Sharp classes and another star," he said. "There…"

"Eruptodon is a Boulder class-and so is a Gronckle," Fishlegs said helpfully. Nodding, Hiccup circled the Boulder Class symbol.

"But what does it mean?" Ruff asked, craning her neck to look at the map.

"And why would you put a map in a position you can only see from the very edge of the crater?" Tuff added.

"To prevent casual observers from seeing the map," Hiccup guessed, slowly getting up. "Apparently without considering the fact that you may actually fall to your death and cremation at the same time in the process. Now we need to get to the third location and hopefully find out what it means." The twins immediately hugged him. He stiffened.

"Thanks for saving my idiot brother," Ruff whispered. "He's a pain but I wouldn't want to be without him…"

"You're welcome," Hiccup replied as Tuff tried to kiss him again. "And Tuff-please no!"

"Aww…"

"What was the third rhyme?" Fishlegs asked, looking down the slope. Hiccup sighed.

_"_ _At the edge of land and sea_

_Where water turns to bone_

_There shall ye see_

_The path that leads ye home."_

"So we need to get to the coast and look for this place," the husky man determined and then he paled. "And that means…"

"You're with me, big boy!" Ruff grinned and winked provocatively.

"Eep," Fishlegs said.

oOo

Barf'n'Belch sedately sailed round the island as Hiccup idly ate his beans on toast and pored over his map and books. The ride back to the ship had been fraught with anxiety because Tuff was gushing in his gratitude and had promised to show Hiccup his favourite places when they got back from the mission-while hinting that he would approve 'Ingen' dating his sister. But as he washed and then settled down to study, Hiccup felt a sudden and deep pang of pain. This was the treasure hunt that Gobber had waited almost all of his life to undertake and now Hiccup was doing it in his stead because the man had died, helping him escape. In fact, Gobber's death had proved the reason why Hiccup had managed to escape. He owed his godfather and friend everything and he knew that if he succeeded, he would have a choice to make.

There was a large part of Hiccup that was desperate to exact revenge on the men who had conspired to condemn him for their crimes and bury him in Jotunheim forever. One of the thoughts he had clung to, through those freezing nights, wracked with hunger and enduring agonising phantom pains from his amputated left leg, was the vision of Eret and Viggo suffering in having their lives exploded and losing everything as comprehensively as he himself had. But there was another part, the man he had been who was more desperate to find his father and Astrid, to feel those he loved in his arms and to share whatever treasure he found with them. His father would never have given up, no matter how futile the fight. And Astrid…

He looked up and realised he had sketched her as he recalled her, her eyes filled with that playful expression and wisps of her long blonde hair framing her beautiful face. Tenderly, he lifted a finger and traced the outline of her face, sighing. Through his imprisonment, he had tried not to think too much about her, because being separated from the woman he had loved, his best friend, was so painful that allowing himself to think on it would have driven him mad. And because he wanted to imagine her happy, not waiting fruitlessly for him. But now he was back, improbably emerged from the abyss, there was another fear: that she had done as he had asked and forged a new life without him. It was the best part of eleven years since he was taken and how could he ask a young and vibrant woman to wait for him? What right had he to expect her to share his life sentence and remain alone?

He groaned and ran his fingers through his auburn hair. It had darkened a little in the intervening years and could pass for a brown, though was still devoid of greys. And he knew he was still looking much like a scarecrow…but the anonymity was his cloak. He couldn't afford anyone recognising him until he had a way to clear his name and get his family away. And for that, he needed the treasure.

"You look like you need this," Fishlegs commented, resting a very full mug of steaming black coffee in front of him. Looking up, Hiccup nodded and then sighed.

"This rhyme is…ambiguous," he murmured.

"Water turns to bone," Fishlegs murmured. "Some form of calcification? Maybe stalactites and stalagmites?" Hiccup frowned.

"Makes sense," he murmured. "But that usually occurs in caves, rather than on the coast."

"Perhaps another cave?" the husky man suggested, sipping his hot chocolate, the whipped cream and marshmallow providing him with a sticky milk moustache. "Perhaps a really prominent stalactite or stalagmite that you can see from the sea as you sail by?"

"And maybe it points towards a path that leads to the treasure," Hiccup admitted and then sighed. "I don't know. I guess we just have to circle the island and look for the cave mouth…" He sighed and rose to his feet. "Let's go and see if we can find what we're looking for…"

The ship sedately made its way counter clockwise round the island, sailing close enough to inspect the coastline as they passed. Hiccup strained his eyes using a spyglass and he and Fishlegs-joined intermittently by one or other of the twins-scanned the coast. They located a number of small openings but none of them had anything remarkable which would match the description in the rhyme. They moored halfway round as night fell because Hiccup was worried that they would miss the vital location in the dark. And as they watched him, the others could see him wound tight with tension, unable to rest and ceaselessly scouring his notes and the books. Fishlegs went to bed but he could hear Hiccup tossing and turning, rising partway through the night and leaving the cabin to sit at the table, drinking coffee and desperately hoping his faith and hopes wouldn't be dashed at the last hurdle.

Dawn found him twitchy, pale and looking exhausted and wound up. There were deep shadows under his emerald eyes and his hair was wilder than ever but there was an energy in his body as he waited for everyone to get up and have breakfast: even though it meant so much to him, he knew he was here with the help of his friends and he owed them every courtesy. So he cooked breakfast himself, brewed some decent coffee and waited until they were ready to continue.

As the morning wore on, they rounded the eastern coast and headed towards the northern cape…but as they continued on, Hiccup felt his spirits plummet. There was no cave or entrance that looked remotely like that described in the verse and he wondered if it was all in vain…until they reached the northernmost point of the island and the mountain loomed above them, the snows stretching down in a glacier that nudged its snout right into the sea. Hiccup's eyes widened.

"Water turns to bone," he breathed. "It wasn't literal, it was metaphorical. Water turns to bone. Water becomes solid as bone. Ice!" He waved. "Get closer!" Ruff looked over at Fishlegs.

"There are a lot of submerged rocks that could ground us," she noted. "We could put out the dinghy…"

"There are currents and the waves are crashing quite hard against the rocks," Fishlegs pointed out. "We'd probably be capsized…"

"Then there is only one way," Hiccup said, Stripping off his coat, sweater and shirt and kicking off his boot, he scrambled onto the rail and dived in before anyone could say anything, swimming hard directly towards the shore. The water was very cold and robbed his breath but as he swum closer, he could see there were runes carved into the very rocks, the deep cuts sheltered by a rocky overhang that protected the precious final clue. Tossing his sodden hair back off his face, Hiccup stared at the words.

_When stars align_

_The world is bright_

_It but requires_

_A Scauldron's flight_

"Finally," he breathed as he turned and began to swim back battling the current. But the waves kept hauling him back. His metal leg slammed against an unseen rock and he cried out in pain, almost swallowing a mouthful of water before he struggled on.

"CATCH!" Ruff yelled and flung a rope at him. It took a couple of goes but his flailing arms finally managed to close on the rope and then she and Fishlegs dragged him back to the boat and hauled him aboard.

"Th's 's gett'n a h'bit…" Hiccup managed through chattering teeth as they wrapped a blanket round him.

"Yeah, you do seem to have a thing about diving into cold water," Ruff noted with a grin as she and Fishlegs led him into the communal room.

"Keep goin'" Hiccup managed. "Don' wanna let anyone know…" But the engine was already chugging and they sedately pulled out and headed off to finish their circuit of the island as Hiccup dried off, changed and was warmed up by yet more coffee and Fishlegs's Viking stew. As soon as he was warmed up, sitting at the table in a fresh shirt and a pair or Tuffnut's old pants (cleaned, thankfully) and wrapped in a blanket, he was poring over his map once more, recording the new and hopefully final rhyme in the corner. And then he sat back and stared.

"What does it mean?" Fishlegs asked.

"I mean, stars only come out at night so do we have to wait until it gets dark to see what's next?" Tuff asked, having pulled them into a small bay and dropped the anchor.

"How will we see if it's the right place?" Ruff asked him.

"Or the right stars?" Fishlegs added. "I mean, on a clear night with no light pollution or cloud, you can literally see thousands of stars..."

"Or two," Hiccup rumoured, his finger tapping on the map. Amid the dragon class symbols, there were indeed two stars. Gripping his pencil, he carefully circled them as well. "Stoker class, Boulder class, two stars..."

"Do we look for somewhere that you find all of these?" Fishlegs mused.

"Apart from the map," Ruff pointed out.

"When stars align..." Hiccup shrugged and then peered at the map once more. "I don't see how they can. I mean they are all at different points almost on different sides of the island..."

"That's because you haven't drawn the line yet," Tuff said simply. "When stars align. Where's the line?" Ruff slapped him upside the head.

"Muttonhead," she growled. "Align doesn't mean that..." But Hiccup stared, then very carefully, rose to get the navigational ruler and used it to draw a line between the two stars. He took a deep breath and then drew another between the two dragon class symbols. Then he dropped the ruler and pencil on the table and sat back, staring at the map with a shocked expression on his face.

"Could it really be that simple?" he murmured. The others stared.

"Unbelievable," Fishlegs breathed. "It...makes sense. I mean, these are not sophisticated twenty-first century people who have been versed in a culture of Treasure Island, of conspiracies and roleplay games and highly complex modern thrillers and..."

"Oh c'mon..." Ruff groaned. "You really didn't go with what my idiot brother said?" Hiccup nodded.

"I think I just did," he said quietly and leaned forward to tap his finger very carefully on the point where the two lines intersected. "X marks the spot."

oOo

The next morning they had moored in a little inlet that seemed to be scarcely half a mile from the point where the lines crossed and all four thanked Thor, Odin and all the Aesir that the island was deserted so no one was watching their rather suspicious excursions. Again, Hiccup had been twitchy and on edge, though cold and exhaustion had won him some sleep this time. But he was up first, making coffee and breakfast and waiting with as much patience as he could muster until the others were ready to go.

This time, they went on foot, trudging up a gully that had probably been worn into the ground many years earlier. The weather was a typical day of sunshine and showers, grey clouds scudding overhead, sometimes just making the light flat and grey, sometimes dousing the quartet in a short, sharp shower...and then, just as suddenly, the landscape was bathed in brilliant sunshine, picking out colours that no one had even dreamed were there. Fishlegs was ridiculously excited by the virgin subarctic flora and was taking pictures on his camera phone for his collection while the twins were arguing over who was the smartest, though Ruff did surreptitiously point at a very small and unusual plant that seemed to have the husky man in raptures. Hiccup checked his compass and then stopped as they reached the base of a low depression.

"It should be around here," he murmured as they all looked-and then all at once saw the small ridge with a rocky outcrop ten yards to the north and what looked to be a low cave opening almost concealed under a rough overhang.

"How about there?" Fishlegs suggested but Hiccup was already speeding down the path, ducking in and finding himself standing in a smooth rocky passage that was just high enough for him to stand up in. The others followed as Fishlegs frowned.

"These walls have been artificially smoothed," he murmured, running a hand over the surface. "You can feel chisel marks, even after all these years..." Hiccup took a couple of paces forward and then switched on his torch, seeing the passage wind to the left and head steeply downhill. There were steps carved into the greyish, speckled rock and even more strangely, there were sconces still rusting in the walls. Frowning, Hiccup touched one, feeling the iron rough and deformed with corrosion.

"This was a definitely important," he murmured. "Important enough for someone to install these..." Leading the way, he walked down the steps in a wide curve until they suddenly reached an underground space, a cave with a high roof and the cool drip of water, straight ahead. Hiccup played his torch over a flat pool of water, facing him. Frowning, he directed the torch down and saw it was probably about ten feet deep and it seemed to continue through an arch under the rocky wall a dozen feet in front of them.

"Oh Thor..." Fishlegs said as the auburn-haired man began to strip his coat and jumper off again. "You know you could drown, right? I mean, that tunnel could go anywhere and you could get stuck or run out of air or-or anything..." Hiccup looked up and smiled.

"I know," he agreed. "But somehow, the Gods have kept me alive this long and I have to hope and pray it is for this moment, when all that pain and suffering is rewarded by succeeding where my Godfather probably never would have. I mean, he was short two limbs and didn't have the benefit of you, Fish, with your encyclopaedic dragon knowledge and your steady friendship. Nor the twins with their unique insights and their very unusual biking skills. Or Barf'n'Belch. But I have to do this. If I don't, I will live my whole life wondering..."

And then a sudden golden glow filtered through the space, reflecting through the water from the underwater passage that had worried Fishlegs, causing everyone to stare, open-mouthed.

"They heard you!" Tuff gasped. "Oh my Thor. I mean Loki. No I mean Thor. Or was that Odin? Anyway, I just really want you to know...It wasn't me, it was her. It's easy to mistake us, right? I never said you didn't exist! I believe in you all. All of you! _All things bright and beautiful.._."

"Ingen..." Fishlegs breathed. But he had already dived in, swimming strongly down and under a low arch into an adjoining chamber. His head burst through the surface and he looked up, seeing sunlight filter down through a crack in the rocks, the rays turning the water a clear azure blue and reflecting off the piles and piles of coins, jewellery and ornaments, every single one made of gold. And as he dived down, Hiccup realised there was indeed a treasure, a fortune beyond imagining that even sharing with his friends would still be more than enough to enable him to repay those who had betrayed him in kind. He swum up and realised that the water was part of another pool in an adjacent cavern, with fresh air above his head. The tunnel was only three feet long and wide enough to carry any amount of treasure through to the surface. So he undulated through the piles of gold, the statues and weapons and gems of all kinds. Somewhere in his heart, he felt a surge of joy mingling with sadness that Gobber hadn't lived to see this and be vindicated.

 _This is for you, old man,_ he thought then he scooped a solid gold statue of a dragon and a handful of solid gold viking coins before he dived back to his friends, who were waiting eagerly for him.

Gasping, he pulled himself up onto the rocky ledge at the edge of the water and gave a huge grin as he showed his prizes. Three jaws dropped and his friends stared at him in complete shock.

"We're rich," he said.


	14. Bitter Return

**Fourteen: Bitter Return**

The lone figure walked slowly through the biting wind and sleety rain of Berk, unnoticed as the few locals on the street headed for shelter as quickly as they could. Not that there was much visible for them to recognised, for the man was wearing a cap shading his face under a hoodie with a denim jacket and a large, shapeless duffle coat over that, sheathing his lean shape effectively. The only distinguishing feature was the metal left lower leg that poked out from under almost ragged jeans.

Despite the slight limp, the man headed determinedly up the hill from the harbour, the steep road uneven and sparsely used. Cars zoomed past as the man continued on his way, working his way up, through the warehouses and the town and beyond, to the exclusive areas and large houses of the rich and entitled. But as he made his sore-footed way up to a familiar set of cast iron gates, he stumbled to a halt and stared in utter disbelief.

Where there had once been a house, there was nothing. The large, impressive stone-built home of the Haddock family, the hereditary rulers of Berk, had been razed to the ground, every trace of the large granite building erased. In its place was a beautifully landscaped pond, surrounded by manicured beds with small, miserable looking plants leaning in the scouring wind. There was nothing to ever show the magnificent house had been there. Gone was the red-tiled roof that warmed in the sunsets, the tree that had been climbed by the sons of the line for centuries and even the den that had been built by the former Mayor and his brother. All he could see in the distance was an enormous new white-painted mansion, sited on the ridge, overlooking the expanded park and the site of the former Haddock home. Whoever had built the new house had destroyed the old-and the man knew it wouldn't be Stoick Haddock, a man who revered his heritage as a descendent of the old Viking Chiefs. And it would have been over every objection he could muster.

A cool gaze flicked over to the new building and the watcher read extravagance in every brick. The person who built the house must have fought a furious Stoick to win the right to destroy his home and would scarcely be willing to sit down and rehearse the battle with some ragged stranger. In fact, the man knew he was more likely to the seen off by the dogs than offered a friendly chat. There would be no answers here.

Chilled to the bone and aching with disappointment, the man had walked down the hill once more, his route clinging to the side of the road overshadowed with trees, careful to keep out of view of the traffic cameras and the CCTV of the mansions that clustered in the expensive enclave. Wearily, he walked across town, feeling the sleet turn to snow and his foot grow numb. There were pains shooting up his scarred stump, making every step a torment but he had endured much worse as he crossed the highway and headed down to the poor eastern side of the town, heading for an industrial park.

The chain on the gates was rusting and unlocked and the metal fence was leaning slightly as the man approached, seeing the peeling sign proudly proclaiming 'JORGENSON TRUCKING AND LOGISTICS'. Unwillingly, a small smile lifted his lips, recalling his Uncle Spitelout's puzzled look at the concept of 'logistics' and his cousin's enthusiasm for the rebrand and statement of intent…but the sorry state of the yard suggested that time had not been kind to the Jorgensons either. Yet they represented his best chance of finding out what had happened to Stoick Haddock. So he pushed the creaking gate open, swiped the snow from his eyes and limped into the compound, heading for the office-and behind it the beat-up static motor home that was the home of the Jorgensons.

For a long moment, he paused, staring at the two little steps to the door scrawled with the unpromising words 'NO HAWKERS' and tried to calm his fluttering heart, hearing the dogs inside bark before he forced himself to lean forward and rap on the door. And again. After a few moments, he tried a third time and was on the brink of turning away, defeated, when a voice yelled:

"For Thor's sake! Can't a man even use the John in peace?"

His head snapped up and he stared at the door, the thump of steps closing until the door was wrenched open and the stocky shape of Snotlout glared at him.

"Where's the fire?' he snapped, his fists bunched and face twisted in a scowl. The man outside lifted his head, emerald eyes sparkling as he stared at his cousin.

"Don't you recognise me?" he asked softly. Scowling, Snotlout frowned at the scruffy shape staring at him. The man was lean bordering on skinny, familiar green eyes topping a long face with a frankly wild reddish brown beard, scruffy brownish hair poking out from under a cap that was under the hood of a beat-up green hoodie.

"Get outta here!" he snapped. "Can't you read? The sign says _no hawkers_!"

"What does it say about cousins?" Hiccup asked, pushing the hood back and pulling the cap off, staring deep into Snotlout's puzzled blue eyes. There was an awkward pause and then the shorter man swore vividly.

"Hiccup? Oh my Gods, I can't believe…" he gabbled. "I…" And then he glanced around the deserted yard, the driving snow blurring the world beyond the leaning fence and he lunged forward, grabbing Hiccup's arms and bodily hauling the shabby man into the motor home, then slamming the door hard. For a second, Hiccup stared at him in shock-and then he was enveloped by a ferocious hug by the man's powerful arms. Wrapping his arms around his cousin's body, the fugitive returned the hug, giving a sigh of relief.

"For a moment, I thought you were going to chase me off," he breathed roughly.

"For a moment, I was," Snotlout admitted, stepping back and eyeing Hiccup appraisingly. "I really didn't recognise you…and we were told you were dead, a few months into your sentence. We were trying to prove you innocent, to see if we could find anyone who would help…but when news of your death came through, there seemed no point any more. Your Dad wanted to fight on…but when he heard you were gone, it really broke his spirit." Running his hand through his messy and damp hair, Hiccup limped back and forth.

"Oh, I was alive," he said bitterly. "I wondered why after a few letters, you all stopped writing. I kept hoping and praying for a word, for a sign that you still remembered me. I-I even wondered if the guards were keeping them back…but now it makes sense…" Snotlout sighed, then walked to the small fridge and fished out two cans of beer, tossing one to the dishevelled shape facing him.

"I should have known," Snotlout said savagely, throwing himself down onto a sagging couch, his voice bitter with self-loathing. "I mean, the letter said you had committed suicide. No note, just hanged yourself in your cell. You were buried in the sea, denied a decent burial or memorial and that was the last straw for Uncle Stoick." Slumping onto the couch by him, Hiccup gave a heavy sigh, automatically popping the top off his can and taking a long pull.

"How is Dad? he asked wearily. "I never got a chance to properly speak to him, to explain that it was all lies, that I would never do anything like that…and though they allowed letters in, I know no letters out were permitted." He paused and stared at the can. "I mean, they encouraged us to write…but I saw them opening the letters, reading them, then burning them, unsent. It was all a cruel deception, to break our spirits."

"And telling us you were dead was to make sure we gave up on you, stopping writing and made you believe you were forgotten," Snotlout realised, chugging his beer. "Damn, That's cold." Taking another sip, Hiccup shook his head.

"Snot-what happened to the house?" he asked directly.

"You know, I should be asking my cousin-who's supposedly been dead for well over ten years-how he escaped from an inescapable prison," he retorted.

"I died…again…" Hiccup explained, suddenly coy. Snotlout's alarmed reaction had alarmed him and he wasn't sure he should share all the details with his cousin-yet. There was a pause. "The house, Snot. And where is Dad?" Snotlout emptied his can, crumpled it and tossed it expertly into the bin, sitting back and closing his eyes. "Snot? Tell me!"

"It-it's hard to explain it all," the stocky man admitted, his thick brows dipping as he struggled to order the events.

"Take it in stages, Snot." Hiccup sighed. getting up and helping himself to two more cans, handing one to his cousin. Popping the tab and sucking another mouthful, Snotlout sighed.

"Your father never believed you were a traitor," he admitted. "He never believed all the testimony. He knew you-and the moment that gavel came down, he was contacting someone-anyone-he could to get your freed, to appeal. He spoke to Viggo Grimborn and got him to promise that he would help-but he never did. It was excuse after excuse…and then, of course, he had other troubles."

"What troubles?" Hiccup's voice was icy as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his face.

"Well, as a Mayor with a son convicted of treason, he was more or less forced to resign as Mayor and stand down from the Council of Representatives of the Archipelago," Snotlout explained. "And just as he had resigned, the debts came in…"

"What debts?" Hiccup asked frowning. "I owned everything I had. I left no debts…except maybe a five dollar tab at Phlegma's cafe…" Snotlout shook his head.

"Your gambling debts," he said in a dead voice. "Thor, I wish you had told us you had a problem, Hicc. We could have helped…done an intervention…something…"

Slowly, the auburn-haired man swivelled his head to stare at his cousin and took a couple of shuddering breaths.

"I don't have a gambling problem," he repeated through his teeth.

"Well, maybe not now, because you've kind of been locked away but…"

"I. HAVEN'T. PLACED. A. BET. EVER!" Hiccup ground out through his teeth. "EVER!"

"No, that's not right," Snotlout insisted. "You left massive gambling debts against the business and against your personal possessions. And since you were gone and the business was half-owned by Eret, the liability all fell on your Dad…"

"Eret was the one with the gambling problem, not me," Hiccup growled. "Gods damn him! He must have laid his debts against the business-and me. Thor-how could I have been so stupid!"

"I think Stoick tried to argue that-but Johann swore he knew who had played the Craps tables and the Roulette wheel so unsuccessfully all those times…" Snotlout replied, his eyes searching Hiccup's face for any signs of deception…but all he saw was raw anger and betrayal.

"Then he's in on it," Hiccup growled. "Look-Eret had a real gambling problem. I spoke to him about it so many times…but he shrugged it off. He promised it wouldn't be a problem…and all the time, that treacherous bastard was forging my name and doing a deal with Johann to put the debts against my name-and against Dad's. Eret knew the family had wealth in the house and lands-though I funded Dragon's Edge Transport from my own pocket and savings from my time in College, including my college funds-and he used that. No wonder he couldn't wait to support the prosecution instead of telling the truth about what happened. I thought he was just after the business, to steal what I had built up for himself…but he wanted far more than that…"

"Then you aren't going to like what's happened since," Snotlout muttered darkly. Jerking to his feet, Hiccup shucked his heavy duffle coat off and then turned to face his cousin.

"Snot-what aren't you telling me?" he asked grimly. Running his hands through his jet hair, Snotlout sighed.

"Look, cuz-I hate to say that the people who seem to have been involved in you getting convicted are the people who seem to have done best out of the years since you were imprisoned," he revealed. "Viggo Grimborn has been elected to the Council of Representatives and is the Senior Minister from the Berk delegation. His brother has been elected as well-with Viggo's backing. Eret is now filthy-and I mean _filthy_ -rich. He sold Dragon's Edge and got into Casinos with Johann-and both are making a mint at the Berk Valhalla Casino. The he bought Dragon's Edge back just fo the Hel of it when it looked like it could be useful. Eret was the one who ended up buying your old house and lands-and then razed it to the ground and build himself a fancy new mansion on the hill overlooking the razed site."

Hiccup blinked and felt a surge of rage curl in his chest. His father had lost his home and everything because of Hiccup's unfair conviction of treason and Eret's fraudulent use of Hiccup's names and assets as surety against his gambling debts.

"And Johann?" he asked in an icy voice.

"He sold his shares in the Casino to Eret for a mint and since he has been made the Trade Minister for the Archipelago," Snotlout revealed. "And rumour has it that he has been lining his pockets with bribes, especially from smugglers and entrepreneurs…" Shaking his head, Hiccup gave a shuddering sigh and paced backwards and forward across the sticky carpet of the tiny living area.

"Just tell me one thing," he asked in a faint voice. "Astrid. _Milady_. How-how is she?" His eyes searched Snotlout's face then, begging, _praying_ for some reassurance that she, at least, was unaffected by the disasters that had befallen him and his father. But Snotlout rose to his feet and rested his hand comfortingly on Hiccup's tense shoulder.

"I'm sorry, cuz," he said in a truly apologetic voice. "But three weeks after the news that you were dead, she married Eret."

The room spun and Hiccup felt as if the ground had shifted, the air was suddenly too thin and he staggered, his knees buckling. If Snotlout hadn't acted quickly, he would have face-planted onto the floor and he was barely aware of his surroundings as he was lowered onto the couch, his legs tenderly raised over one arm and head down. Barely aware, Hiccup saw the blurred shape of his cousin recede and he almost cried out-but Snotlout was almost immediately back, a hand towel soaked in cold water in his hand. The freezing object was laid across his forehead and as he lay there, breathing hard, his vision slowly cleared and his head slowly settled.

But there was a searing pain in his heart, for the only face he had clung to, throughout every horror that had befallen him, was Astrid. His lady, the woman who had always owned his heart, the woman who had sworn to wait for him when he was arrested, the woman who had promised she would be his forever…was gone. Almost as soon as he was declared dead, she had upped and married another man, suggesting every word she had spoken to him…was a lie.

_I love you, Hiccup._

_There will always be a Hiccup and Astrid. Whatever it means, whatever you want it to mean…_

But it had meant nothing, because the moment he had been declared dead, she had found another man. Maybe she had been eyeing him up before Hiccup was convicted and she had just been waiting for the news of his death in the Prison that No One Ever Returned From. And now Eret had it all-Hiccup's business, his family home and lands and now his girl.

_And all for the price of a simple lie for a package that Eret had accepted for carriage and had then failed to turn up for the delivery of._

In one smooth motion, he sat up and stared into Snotlout's concerned eyes.

"Dad." The word was toneless. Snotlout shook his head.

"Look, when you were declared dead, it broke him," he admitted. "His entire drive was to see justice done for you but when the news came through you had taken your own life, the heart went out of him. Because he could clear your name but he was too late-and he knew he had failed you as a father. Of course, he fought the court orders for the debts, but his heart wasn't in it and when the decision went against him, he left the house with barely a whimper, just taking the things that reminded him of his lost wife and son-and of the Haddock family heritage. Dad and I have it stored in a lock-up because we couldn't let him sell it for food or dump it…"

"Sell it for food?" Hiccup's voice was horrified.

"Once he was made homeless and lost all his assets and his job as Mayor, he came to live with us for a short while-but he was proud and he wouldn't accept charity-so he moved into a hostel for homeless men and volunteered in charity shops and any project where he could contribute towards Berk. I mean, people were shocked that his son had apparently turned out so bad but there was never any ill feeling towards your Dad. Listen, he pretty much _was_ Berk personified and people were always happy to see him. He always wanted to help out…"

"For a Chief, no job is too small," Hiccup quoted. "He was proud to serve Berk, as his ancestors before him." And then he swallowed. "Is he dead?"

"No-but he is dying," Snotlout admitted. "Poor food, stress, constant hard work…it's all taken its toll. Especially for a man whose only dream is to die to rejoin his family. He would never kill himself but he really doesn't care if he lives or dies."

"Where is he?" Hiccup growled, rising to his feet. "Take me to him!"

oOo

Gothi's cottage was a ramshackle single storey building that clung stubbornly to the eastern edge of town, in the shadow of the vertiginous mountain that formed much of the upper town. The roof looked as if it would blow off in a breeze and the snow was becoming deeper as Snotlout drove up in his very unhealthy-sounding truck. Purple smoke curled from the leaning chimney as they pulled up and Snotlout hammered on the door. There was a long pause and Hiccup glanced around nervously, the reality of his vulnerability in a hostile Berk striking home. Though no one would expect to see him, since he had been declared dead years earlier. And if they realised he had escaped, what could they do? Send out an Archipelago-wide alert for a man they declared dead ten years earlier? Who would believe them?

But he was still taken by surprise when the door wrenched open and the bowed, wizened shape of Gothi, the Elder of Berk, peered grumpily up at them, her squinting gaze irritated. The woman was only four and a half feet tall, with a hunched shoulder and a squint, her thinning grey hair in a long braid down her back and sharp features unfriendly. Her belted grey dress was patched and thin and her boots were beaten up and scuffed. But as she glanced up at Snotlout, her eyes warmed and she nodded, beckoning him in using her staff-and then intercepting Hiccup, a small smile lifting her lips. His eyes widened as recognised the elderly medic who had treated him all those years before when he was dying after that final fight. She was the woman who had amputated his leg-and saved his life.

"He's a friend," Snotlout explained and she inspected him, her head tilting and eyes narrowing… and then she grabbed his arm, pulling him in and slamming the door.

"Wow-that seems to be my standard greeting," Hiccup noted dryly as he was hustled into the main room-and then, as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he saw a large shape humped under patchwork blankets, the greying red hair and grizzled flaming beard familiar yet unfamiliar. "Dad…"

There was no movement, no response at all as the scruffy shape walked slowly to the man's bedside. As he got closer, he could see his father's shape was shrunken, his muscles wasted with disuse and his face heavily lined with weariness and sorrow. Pulling up a stool, Hiccup sat and took one of the large hands in his own. In his prime, Stoick had been a mountain of a man, the opposite of his tall, lean son but to see him so reduced broke Hiccup's heart all over again.

"Dad?"

The eyelids flickered and opened, revealing eyes that were unfocussed and blank. The hand tightened around Hiccup's and the young man squeezed back.

"Son…?" The voice was hoarse and scratchy, barely a whisper of its former power.

"I'm here, Dad," Hiccup said reassuringly, feeling his eyes burning with sudden tears. "I'm here." The man in the bed moved slightly and he shook his head.

"No…my son died, ten years ago," he managed wistfully. "My poor Hiccup, framed and betrayed. Driven to take his life because there was seemingly no end to his torment. And no one would hear my pleas-not the Council, not that damned lawyer, not his best friend, not _anyone_ who should help me!"

"It's okay, Dad-as long as I know you believe me, nothing else matters," the auburn-haired man told him, leaning close. His hand gently stroked a wisp of grizzled hair off the broad forehead. But Stoick shook his head.

"My son is gone…" he argued roughly. "She has the last…but he is lost." There was a pause.

"Dad-it's me," he pleaded softly as a bout of coughing wracked the older man. Frowning, Hiccup could see his father's sunken cheeks were flushed with fever and the skin felt hot to the touch. "Can't you see it's me?"

But the blank gaze and lack of focus told him the answer.

"A stroke took his sight about three months ago," Snotlout said quietly from behind him. "After that, he really couldn't go out…and Dad and I can barely make enough to keep our head above water. We didn't have the time to take him out and so he couldn't help anyone any more. So he gave up, stewing in his memories and then he became sick. Gothi took him in-because he is her Chief still-but she says he's been fading. None of us can afford medical insurance and he doesn't want to go on. She says…it's only a matter of time…"

"No…" Hiccup's voice was a broken whisper and he stared at the man lying in the bed, the sightless eyes closed once more. "No. I've got the means to get you out of here, Dad. I'm alive and you just need to hang on…because you waited for me. You never gave up-and I promised myself I would come back to those I love and get you away from here. But you gotta hang on, Dad. Please don't leave me alone now…not when I've finally made it back to you…" A tear streaked down his cheek and he palmed it away absently. "Dad…please don't give up…"

The dying man's hand raised and gently stroked the young man's face, feeling the traces of moisture on the skin.

"Don't be upset," Stoick said gruffly. "I'll be back with Val and Hiccup. With my beloved family. I hung on as long as I could-because a Chief never abandons his Tribe…but in the end, it was too much…" There was a pause. "But thank you…" He gave a sigh. "At least I am not alone. Just…look after my brother and nephew…"

"I-I promise," Hiccup said, his voice cracked with despair. "But you hang on. I'm going to get you some help. I…"

"Just sit with me," Stoick said softly. "Let me imagine, just for a few moments, that my son is with me…"

"Whatever you want, I'll do it," Hiccup promised hoarsely.

"You even sound like him," Stoick breathed softly, his eyes closed. "Hmm…tell a little about yourself…so I can hear you speak some more…"

oOo

The sun was rising, a faint red smudge on the cloudy horizon marking the beginning of a new day-but Hiccup, grasping a mug of really dreadful coffee in his hand, scarcely saw the hopeful sight. Stoick had died two hours earlier, dropping into coma at dusk as his fever soared and deteriorating with incredibly rapidity overnight. Gothi had tried potions and tisanes to try to combat the infection that ravaged his broken body but Stoick had quietly surrendered and as the stars began to set and the horizon started to lighten, the former Mayor breathed his last.

Snotlout had remained with his cousin, helping talk to the dying man and support the devastated Hiccup, who kept blaming himself for not escaping sooner and not arriving in time to help…though, from what he could see, it was very obvious that Hiccup had barely survived his ordeals. Thin, down a leg and clearly traumatised, that he was back on Berk at all was a miracle…but there was nothing that could have been done to save the man's father.

"He didn't know me," Hiccup murmured softly, sipping the steaming liquid. He grimaced but took another sip: time in the prison had taught him drink or eat whatever was put in front of him. "He thought I sounded like his son but he didn't believe it was me…"

"C'mon, cuz-it's pretty incredible that you're here," Snotlout pointed out. "I mean, I can see it's you and I hardly believe it…"

"But he's my Dad…" The pain was there, infusing every word.

"And he loved you and mourned you every day since the Trial," his cousin reassured him. "When he went blind, when he lost his purpose, he retreated into his memories. And-and I didn't spend as much time with him as I should…I guess I didn't want to acknowledge that the man I admired and loved was slipping away. And Dad needed me as well…" Unexpectedly, Hiccup grasped the brawny shoulder.

"You did more than you could have imagined," he said roughly. "You made him feel that he wasn't alone. And you gave me the chance to be with him…" And then he closed his forest green eyes, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "But I wish he could have known I was there…"

"I'm sure he knew," Snotlout murmured. "He was smiling at the end. And he never let your hand go, even for a moment. He knew you were there, Hicc." And then he frowned. "But I wanted to ask you earlier: what did you mean when you said you had the means to get him out of here?" Hiccup sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"When I escaped, I found a hoard that my partner in hardship, Dad's old friend Gobber, had located using an ancient treasure map," he revealed, a wry smile tilting this damp face. He ran his hand through his auburn hair, making the whole effect look a little wilder. Snotlout snorted. "Yeah-that was my response as well. We had worked through the clues together and had found the location of the treasure…but when he was killed during a cave-in on our way to freedom, I had to escape alone. And maybe if I hadn't stopped to find the treasure, I would have been able to save Dad…"

His cousin stared at him, open-mouthed.

"What…as in real treasure?" he repeated. "Gold, gemstones, coins…?"

"I believe there's even a crown made of solid gold in there," Hiccup observed dryly, seeing blue eyes widen impossibly.

"A crown…" Snotlout was practically drooling. "What I couldn't do with a golden crown…" He paused.

"Maybe you should think of what you _could_ do with a golden crown," Hiccup suggested with a wry smile. "There are a lot more things, for starters…" Snotlout blinked.

"Seriously?"

Hiccup nodded.

"Look, Snot-I came here to find those that mean the most to me-my Dad, my Uncle and cousin-and the woman I love," he said tonelessly. "And what do I find? My father is dying, my cousin and Uncle are broke and Astrid has married the man who framed and betrayed me, who stole everything from me a couple of weeks after she learns I've died."

"I think it was three weeks," Snotlout piped up and then subsided at the ferocious glare he earned from his cousin.

"I didn't expect her to wait forever but to marry him so quickly and to marry _him_ , when he was responsible for it all…no," Hiccup said, his voice hard. "So I have to believe that she never actually loved me. It was all a lie." He drained his mug and stared at the red-tinged clouds, the sky bright with early morning.

"So what are you going to do?" Snotlout asked, eyeing him. There was a sudden coldness in his voice that had his cousin staring at him. Hiccup blinked.

"I would really really like your help," he said gruffly. "But if you don't want to, then I will make sure you receive enough gold to ensure you are set for life in thanks for all the kindness you showed my Dad."

Snotlout stared at him in shock.

"You'd do that?' he mouthed and the other man nodded.

"Look-you and Spitelout are my only living relatives-so whatever happens, I will make sure you are looked after," he said. "No pressure." Taking a deep breath, Snotlout looked at the scruffy shape in front of him and sighed. The business could do with the injection of cash and his father would be grateful if he could get some new rigs…or hire some men…or even move into a proper house… And then he recalled Hiccup's face as his father died, tears streaming down the man's face unashamedly-and he knew what the only answer there was that he could live with.

"I'm coming with you, cuz," he said firmly. "Dad can hire some men to help him in the business but I think this is something I have to do."

And suddenly, Hiccup smiled, his stern face easing into a relieved smile. "Thanks, Snot-you have no idea how much this means to me…" He managed. Snotlout grasped his hand.

"Just one thing-what exactly are we going to do?" he asked. And then Hiccup smiled and his cousin felt his blood run cold.

"We're going to use the treasure to take my revenge on everyone who betrayed me and put me through Helheim and killed my Dad," he said. "And it's going to take some preparation. But I spent over ten years in prison…so I can afford to take my time and be patient…and when they have forgotten I even existed, I will take everything they have!"


	15. The Mysterious Tallon Fury

**Fifteen: The Mysterious Tallon Fury**

**_Six Years Later..._ **

The news was sweeping the small island of Berk that the Archipelago's only billionaire had bought the land up and around Raven Point and had constructed a magnificent home there beyond the sight of the rest of the inhabitants of the town. Of course, the Berkians had known someone had purchased the land because the area had suddenly become unavailable for hikes and runs but there had been no information and the deeds had all been registered at the Administrative Capitol of the Archipelago on Dragon Island. There had been trucks going up there and helicopters coming in and out, constructing something but no one had an inkling what had been going on…until now.

For Astrid Eretson, the loss of Raven Point-and especially the cove where Toothless, Hiccup's precious Night Fury was concealed-was like the loss of perhaps the last piece of him. Rich and privileged as the wife of one of Berk's richest and leading citizens, Astrid had visited the concealed aircraft every few days or week since Hiccup had been arrested…and it had been the only place to go when news of his suicide had come through. Devastated, heartbroken and raw, Astrid had gone to the only tangible evidence of his existence and had wept in the cockpit, her mind supplying images of his smile as he repaired Toothless. And she had travelled there ever since under the pretext of going for a run. It had been less frequent as the years came but every month or six weeks, she had still made her way down into the depression to talk to her dead lover and tell him what had been happening. But now that was taken from her as well and it had been like losing him all over again.

She had filtered out the chatter in the weekly meeting of the Berk Women's Institute until it turned to the new owner of Raven Point when she had emerged from her reveries and focussed on Atali's words.

"So our new Berk resident is the owner of Dragon's Edge Aerospace, none other than Tallon Fury himself!"

If she had expected a tsunami of exclamations and enquiries, she was sorely mistaken. The other women looked at the red-haired Atali, her copper mane in a high ponytail and green eyes rolling in exasperation. Minden flicked her mid brown bob.

"A bit pretentious, isn't it?" she commented crushingly. Nadia chuckled, her wicked sense of irony familiar to the group.

"He's worth several billion so if he wanted to call himself 'Chicken' and walk around dressed only in feathers, I doubt anyone would comment…to his face, at least," she noted.

"Dragon's Edge Aerospace?" Minden asked sharply. She was direct and cutting about most subjects. Atali shook her head.

"The biggest zero to hero story in the Archipelago's history!" she retorted.

"I very much doubt that," Astrid commented dryly. The other three looked at her. "Well, Vikings came here well over a thousand years ago and I am certain there will be far more worthy tales of heroism and courage than someone setting up a plane company." Atali gave a scornful smirk. She, Nadia and Minden were known as the Wing Maidens, a group of society bitches who had ditched their unsatisfactory husbands, stripped them of assets and risen inexorably in Berk society. They were always on the lookout for a fresh husband or something that could advance their own profile and bank balance: Tallon Fury probably represented all of those opportunities.

"Astrid, Astrid, Astrid," Atali told her mockingly. "You may be satisfied with that boorish loser you're married to but allow the rest of us to assess the fresh meat on the market."

"I am sure a man in possession of billions and an aerospace company will be eyeing much better prizes than you three," Astrid retorted, stinging at the comment about her husband. Not that she actually cared about Eret to any significant degree-but she wasn't about to tolerate Atali and her cronies jibing her about Eret's deficiencies. Besides, puncturing Atali's Atali-centric view of the world was always a worthwhile pastime. The women scowled back.

"Why not?" Atali retaliated. "The man has appeared from nowhere, he's set up this amazing company and has suddenly become the richest and most eligible person in the entire Archipelago…and he's moved into our neighbourhood!"

"He doesn't do any broadcast interviews," Nadia announced, her eyes scanning her smart phone. "Not one. He doesn't allow pictures. He's done one interview with Sven Shepherd, the tech journalist from the 'Berk Viking' paper."

"And?" Minden prompted her, edging to her side and trying to peer over her shoulder. Astrid sipped her tea and watched them, ensuring she still looked outwardly bored. If this man moved to Berk, it was a certainty that Eret would attempt to befriend him and try to weasel some money out of him to support his various and relatively unsuccessful business ventures. Any information would be a help so she listened more intently.

"Single," she read to sharp intakes of breath. Giving a smug smile, Atali tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the table.

"Go on," she prompted.

"Set up the company with an inheritance from his godfather," Nadia read. "He bought a small aeroengineering firm, Dragon Engineering and within two years, he had presented two new aircraft to the world for sale. His NF-400 mid-range passenger jet is a direct competitor for Airbus and Boeing and it has outsold their models by three to one-especially with a couple of incidents with some of the current options. Currently about five hundred are in service with as many on the order books, giving a turnover in excess of fifty billion dollars. The shorter range NF-100 is already a stalwart of island-hopping fleets all over the globe. And all the aircraft have such advanced and innovative safety features that they have completely shifted the safety paradigm within the aerospace industry, leaving rivals floundering to catch up."

"Smart, rich and driven," Atali grinned. "I like him already."

"I don't understand most of that," Minden protested.

"You don't need to," Nadia told her. "It means he's loaded, has his own company and is likely to remain a world leader for years to come. And he's the best catch ever to come to Berk."

"Probably gay," Astrid put in, watching the women bristle at the implications it may not be their charms that would win him.

"I'm sure we can cure that," she said as Astrid rolled her eyes.

"Not sure that is a 'curable' characteristic," she pointed out sarcastically.

"You're very bitter," Minden told her shortly.

"Must be the boorish loser I'm married to that's made me such," the blonde woman commented sharply. "Though I can guarantee that I am going to meet him. After all, Eret is part of the Island Council as one of our leading citizens…and they will have extended an invitation to Mr Fury for the Council Spring Reception. I'm sure he will come…because he could have kept his residency here secret if he had wanted. The announcement is designed to let us know he wants to join our society." And then she smiled. "I'll tell you what he's like…" Then she rose to speak to Elsa Larson, the best baker in the group as the others watched her, a mixture of pity and venom on their faces.

"You think she knows that Eret has been sleeping with you, Atali?" Nadia asked dryly.

"Maybe," the redhead said, tossing her hair. "And if not me…well, there have been plenty over the years. Man seems incapable of keeping his eye on his wife." Then she smirked. "Not that I'm complaining, of course. I mean, he's reasonably rewarding spending time with-and he does like to show off his wealth with a few little gifts…" And she pointedly lifted her chin, displaying the elegant emerald diadem pendant hanging from a beautifully-crafted gold necklace. Nadia inhaled sharply.

"That must have cost a fortune," Minden commented.

"Certainly," Atali told her. "Tens of thousands, if I'm not mistaken. But what am I to do? Man wants to treat me…I'm hardly likely to complain…"

"Though you did deliberately wear the gift when running into his wife," Nadia noted dryly.

"She should do better in satisfying him," Atali retorted cruelly. "He says their love life is pretty much deceased. And he doesn't love her-she's just a good hostess and business asset now. And the fallout if he left her and their children would be very bad for confidence. She always has the option to take a lover as well…" Snorting disparagingly, Nadia shook her head.

"I doubt it," she commented. "I mean, she was supposed to be beautiful when she was younger-but I don't see she's special now." They all stared at the slender, lithe shape, dressed in a simple navy blue shift dress with dark tights and knee high glossy chestnut boots. Her long golden hair was functionally in a thick braid, tossed over her left shoulder and besides her ostentatious wedding band, the only other jewellery she wore was a thin silver band with a small aquamarine around the third finger of her right hand. Her face was still clear and unlined, her sea blue eyes bright and clear and there was a sense of calm in her features. By any standards she was still a beautiful woman-except to her rivals.

"I heard she was penniless and desperate when's he married him," Minden gossiped mercilessly. "She won't give up her meal ticket-or want him to remarry and have more brats which could oust her own offspring." Atali snorted.

"Not about to ruin this figure just to give anyone a son," she said, resting her hands pointedly on her narrow waist. "He's got Eret Junior and he can be satisfied with that!" Then she shrugged. "Not that I think Eret would be much point marrying. I mean, he is boorish and self-absorbed and he does have a gambling habit. I'm not sure he'll be rich for ever and he's better to milk for gifts and…fun…rather than risking anything of mine if it all goes south."

"And it may?" Nadia asked, leaning forward. Atali cast a glance at Astrid, who was nodding and smiling at the older woman, complimenting her on her coffee walnut cake.

"Rumour has it he's not as solvent as he seems," she hissed. "I overheard him taking a call while I was in the bathroom. He's up to his neck in debts and ironically the cargo business is just about keeping his head above water. The house is mortgaged and the children's college funds have been frittered away. Only the fact that he works closely with the Trade Minister allows him to get enough contracts and loans to keep his head above water." Minden smirked.

"So Mrs High-and-Mighty may soon be back where she started?" she scoffed. Atali nodded.

"In the gutter where she belongs," she confirmed and then she looked over at Nadia. "Okay-so what else does that article say about Mr Tallon Fury?"

oOo

In the Great Hall, the centre of Berkian administration and government, the office of the First Minister commanded excellent views from its fourth floor position over the town of Berk. Spread at his feet, First Minister Viggo Grimborn looked down on his subjects with contempt. Eschewing the traditional title of 'Mayor', when he had taken over the office some sixteen years earlier, he had changed his title, consolidated his influence and set to erase every last trace of his predecessor.

He stared across the vista, seeing containers gliding into the port and a couple of smaller fishing vessels head round for the fish market. A helicopter was skimming low over the bay and the streets were jammed with rush hour traffic, the lines of cars moving slowly towards the red traffic lights. Clasping his hands behind his back, he noted road works on the main road to the Plaza that should have been completed a week earlier and made a mental note to chase the Highways Department over why the main artery in the town was still disrupted. Then he turned back to his two colleagues, his lips pressed tight in irritation.

"So how are the negotiations going?" he asked. The shape in the chair closer to the window shifted. The man was dapper with a greying brown curled beard, bright eyes and a ready-if false-smile. Clothed on a silver silk suit with a brilliant pink shirt and wildly patterned tie and pink kerchief in his top pocket, Johann Trayder was the Trade Minister for the entire Archipelago and probably the biggest crook that Viggo had ever met. The man's mouth spewed falsehoods as easily as breathing and he was a man who you never trusted. Viggo almost counted his fingers automatically after he shook hands with Johann, knowing the man would even rip off his own mother. Johann was a vicious opponent and had connections with the most shady and dangerous characters across the Archipelago and the North, a man who had started out as a general trader, casino owner and smuggler, a man who had no morals or scruples and for whom, dollars were his god.

"Slowly," Johann said, the edge on his voice irritated. "The Bogs and Paxlandians are being very difficult in accepting your proposal for a pan-Archipelago tariff for iron and power."

"Probably because Paxlandia has the most efficient and profitable steel works in the Archipelago-and they have recently committed to a very large and long term contract with Dragon's Edge Aerospace for their NF-400 model which is providing a serious amount of work for the Paxlandians and the Berserkers," the third man said. Tall and buff with a shaven head and stripe of a beard on his large chin, Ryker Grimborn was Viggo's older brother, a man with a shady past in security and what had been described politely as 'problem management'. There was an air of restrained violence in his powerful form and his hard dark eyes. He was clothed in iron grey pants and a buff shirt that strained across his powerful chest.

"The Bogs are being difficult-because First Minister Bogby has never seen eye to eye with me since I was caught smuggling out culturally-sensitive artefacts twenty years ago," Johann said.

"We need this agreement," Viggo said firmly, sitting down with poise and pouring himself a crystal tumbler of finest Berkian mead. Ryker grabbed the decanter and sloshed more of the amber liquid into his own and Johann's glasses.

"Thanks," he added ironically. "The Bogs have a dedicated electronics facility that is also profiting from a Dragon's Edge contract. And they have already invested heavily in wind and wave power over the last decade, making them regional leaders in clean, renewable energy. They are massive net exporters and certainly they won't be interested in aligning with your tariff levels."

"I can't have that at all," Johann said dryly. "I have slowly increased our tariffs to ensure that we undergo a prolonged economic slowdown to ensure that when an alternative to the current governmental structure is offered, our people will respond positively."

Ryker drained his glass and chuckled.

"You think your beloved sheep realise that some of their senior representatives are trying their best to run down their own government so that it can be destroyed?" he asked. Viggo steepled his fingers.

"No," he said. "I have been manoeuvring them to where I need them," he said. "I have carefully built my platform on being tough on crime and criminals. Crime is right down and convictions are at an all time high. All opponents have been removed using the machinery of justice. I have slowly tightened up the laws where it suits me-and one by one, removed the legal means of removing me from office. There won't be a coup against me as there was against that gullible fool, Stoick Haddock!"

"Just against the United Archipelago Government," Ryker chuckled, refilling his glass.

"None of which excessively self-congratulatory propaganda gets us any closer to harmonising our tariffs at a distinctly disadvantageous rate," Johann commented in a bored voice, rolling his crystal glass in his hands. "Dragon's Edge Aerospace seems to be a rather irritating thorn in our side."

"Also one of the largest organisations in terms of turnover in the North," Ryker pointed out.

"So what do we know about the owner and CEO?" Viggo asked.

"Almost nothing," Johann snapped. "The man is a recluse. He doesn't allow pictures, he gives no broadcast interviews…and I am not certain Tallon Fury is even his real name. My contacts could find nothing about him. He just appeared as if out of nowhere about six years ago."

"He has a small number of close associates who are very efficient in blocking access to him and who give very little away," Ryker reported. "But he is close to the First Ministers of Bog and Paxlandia and is certainly a welcome guest with the leading families in Berserk and Shivering Shores."

"So why Berk?" Viggo murmured. "Why not one of those islands?"

"Maybe he comes from here?" Johann suggested.

"I would know," the First Minister snapped. "I would have noticed if such a talented and innovative young man had vanished from here. I try to watch anyone out of the ordinary. And there are very few people here who have any skills in aeronautical engineering."

"Maybe your friend Eret can use his contacts to dig into this man's past?" Ryker commented, staring at Johann. The Trade Minister scratched his beard.

"I'm not sure he has any contacts except me," he commented. "The man isn't the brains or drive behind the business, since it was stolen from his business partner who was framed to remove him from any prying eyes once he had delivered the access codes to Icefell." Stiffening imperceptibly, Viggo then nodded.

"Make him earn his way for once," he growled. "He plays on his connection with both of us when it suits him. Maybe he can be of some use and deserve the Government contracts he still retains. Get him to find out. To befriend the man. He can use that wife of his…Astrid…to see if she can maybe charm the recluse."

"I don't like rich men," Johann said grimly. "They tend to have expensive layers, excellent security and have a nasty habit of behaving as if the law doesn't apply to them."

"Sounds like people not a million miles from here," Ryker commented gruffly.

"And we-all three of us-have been working with our partner for almost two decades to bring around the triumph of our master," Johann reminded him. "I know he will not be happy if all our plans are disrupted by some brilliant recluse who just happens to have accidentally blocked our proposals…"

"The Archipelago Government won't fail to fall just because we don't completely wreck the economy, Johann," Viggo reminded him coolly.

"But it facilitates the process significantly-and will reduce opposition," Johann added. "And you know our master hates failure. Anyone who crosses him answers to Krogan…or even Grimmel."

"Then maybe we can just send them…" Ryker suggested, sitting back.

"And miss the opportunity this man offers?" Viggo snapped. "I am ashamed of you, brother! This man could be a major asset. And I am certain we can find some way to persuade him that assisting us would be in the Archipelago's-and his-best interests." He leaned forward. "No-Johann, you must get Eret to meet him. Soon. I will have him invited to the next Civic Ball. And you can arrange to meet with him to ease trade conditions here…in the interests of the business, of course, as well as Berk. I will ask our master's agents to see what they can dig up on this man." He sat back. "Whoever Tallon Fury is, he cannot be allowed to derail our progress. After all, we are now so close. By the end of the year, our master will rule the Archipelago."

oOo

In an office on Dragon Island, the President of the United Archipelago Government sat back at her wide granite desk. Light filtering through the wide picture windows gilded her page-cut strawberry blonde hair and her green eyes narrowed at the man sitting opposite her as she digested his words.

"You are sure?" Her clipped tones were cool and very slightly concerned. He nodded.

"You start from a position of scepticism," he told her clearly. "While I start from knowledge that they are corrupt. I have investigated their concerns over the last five years and uncovered incontrovertible links between them and the gravest danger facing our Government. It means I have no qualms about using whatever means to investigate and stop them. And I have no concerns about their welfare during that process either."

"This must be done within the bounds of the law," the President insisted as the man sat back, lacing his fingers. "I have spent the last seven years trying to humanise the penal system and ensure that human life is valued and the emphasis is on rehabilitation, not on brutalising the prisoners. And that justice is transparent and fair for all."

"If you wish," he said, his tone cynical. "I give my word I will not kill any of these men…but I will not stop them if they choose to harm themselves or others wish to do so." The President paused, hearing the flat tone-and then she nodded. The truth was that the tale he had revealed was so terrifying and so advanced that they would need all he help they could get to halt it before it was too late.

"Good enough," she conceded. Then she looked up to the third person in the office, a tall powerful man with a stern face, deep caramel eyes and short, reddish hair, standing quietly by the door. "My Special Investigator has wide powers that outrank any local law or governmental officer. You may deal directly with him. He will ensure that those you have named will not escape justice." The man nodded.

"And the other thing?" he asked. This time she paused-and then she signed the paper embossed with the Presidential seal that was placed on the desk in front of her.

"The immunity you requested," she said reluctantly, blotting her signature. "I must know…why did you request this?" The man smiled as he accepted the paper and fastidiously rolled it up.

"My friends," he said. "This is to protect them, not me." Then was a gruff, bitter edge to his voice as he looked fearlessly into her eyes. "It's too late for me." Then he rose and offered the President his hand. "You will be hearing from me soon, Madame President. And you, Special Investigator." She grasped his hand firmly and then nodded.

"Thank you. And good luck, Mr Fury," she said.


	16. The Most Eligible Man In Berk

**Sixteen: The Most Eligible Man in Berk**

Berk's Annual Spring Civic Reception was the best and only place to be seen. Held in the Great Hall, that magnificent stone monolith that dominated the upper town of Berk, the building had its roots back a thousand years and was built on the ruins of the old viking structure that had formed the heart of the community. High ceilinged with massive granite columns supporting the soaring arched roof, the place more resembled a Gothic cathedral than a reception venue but the marble floor, elegantly decorated walls with plaster friezes and Viking tapestries and generous nods to Berk's heritage made it an impressive venue. At the far end, the larger than life portrait of the First Minister dominated the wall, staring down at his subjects. A red carpet ran all the way up the central aisle and out onto the street where limousines for the honoured guests were already arriving.

Astrid paused to take a deep breath of the fresh night air before her husband joined her, his arm draping possessively around her shoulders to ensure that no one was in any doubt that this expensive piece was his. Tall, very buff and handsome, Eret Eretson always wore cream and beige as it complimented his tanned skin, jet hair and dark caramel eyes. He took Astrid's hand and enclosed it in his as she lifted her chin and walked forward in step with him. Her asymmetric azure cocktail dress shimmered in the brilliant lights, flowing as she moved and her hair was loose over her shoulders. Classic gold heels and gold Chanel purse completed the outfit as they made their way in, the flash of cameras following them as usual.

Once inside, Eret dropped her hand and cast around for a server.

"Gods, I'm parched," he said without preamble. "I need a drink."

"You always need a drink," Astrid commented dryly, gesturing discreetly to a young woman who immediately brought a tray over. Eret grabbed a flute of champagne and downed it in one before grabbing a second.

"Get me a double bourbon on the rocks, hold the rocks," he said brusquely. "And snap to it, sweet cheeks,"

"Very good, sir," the young woman said and he froze, looking up to the slender shape facing him. Dark auburn hair was braided over her shoulder and bright blue eyes stared boldly back into his face, the few scattered freckles moving as she tried not to smile. Eret scowled.

"Zephyr? What are you doing here?" he growled.

"Work experience," Astrid cut in, nodding to her daughter.

"Absolutely not! I completely forbid my daughter from working a minimum wage job especially here, where my fellow Councillors and business associates will see her!" Eret hissed. "Are you trying to make me look a fool, woman?"

"No, you can do that all by yourself," Astrid replied through gritted teeth. "What they will see is a wise father encouraging his child to get valuable work experience in a safe environment where he is present to keep an eye on her! A good businessman encourages self-exploration and development and customer service skills are always valuable." She nodded to her daughter. "Off you go, Zeph." Smiling, the young woman headed away, the drinks tray elegantly balanced on her arm.

"We will talk about this later," Eret promised venomously.

"No we won't," Astrid retorted, her patience worn thin. "Later, you'll be drunk or up the casino losing our money or banging some whore."

"It's MY money!" he growled but she turned to face him.

"Ours," she reminded him. "As your wife, I am entitled to half of what you have." _Because you took everything of mine._ Eret snorted.

"You only do half the job so what does that make you?" he sneered. She sighed.

"A fool," she muttered and then walked up the red carpet towards the black-clad shape of the First Minister, holding court up on the raised dais with the tall shape of his brother in attendance. Walking forward with a carefully judged smile on her face, she nodded to Viggo and he took her hand, ghosting the slightest kiss on her pale skin.

"My dear Astrid, you look utterly gorgeous," he said smoothly. "Are you well?"

"Very well, thank you," she replied as his eyes glanced over at the shape of Eret, who was loudly greeting one of his friends from the casino. "And you?"

"Oh, better than good," he revealed. "I notice young Zephyr is working here tonight?" Astrid nodded.

"I was keen she should get some work experience, since we live a very comfortable life," she explained. "Money earned, not given has more meaning."

"An unusual view for one in your position," Viggo replied, his gaze trailing the slender shape walking swiftly and assuredly round the periphery of the Hall.

"Fortunes change overnight and I don't want either of my children to be ill-equipped for life should the storms hit," she told him. He smiled.

"Excuse me," he said and turned to the next guest. Relieved that part was over, she headed back into the throng and found herself a glass of wine, then watched her daughter continue with her job, hoping the girl noted that most of the wealthiest people treated her as if she was nothing. Only the self-made and middle class attendees fastidiously thanked her. Over to one side, she could see Atali, Minden and Nadia all clustered in a little group, all wearing similar silver outfits that shimmered in the light. Turning away, she walked slowly round the periphery of the Hall. Long ago, she had been here with Hiccup, attending one of the Mayor's Banquets and she recalled how kind and warm Stoick had been, circulating and making sure he spoke to everyone. Viggo was more like a king holding court than a leader among equals.

And then she became aware of a hubbub, of whispers and conversations quieting as the sounds of a helicopter landing suddenly roared outside before the engines damped down, the roar softening to a decelerating whine. There was a slow but definite movement towards the doors and intrigued, Astrid followed, hanging back enough so she could have an unimpeded view as shapes approached the door out of the dark night and there was a collective intake of breath.

"Ladies and Gentlemen-Mr Tallon Fury!" The voice of the announcer silenced the hubbub and now every eye turned to the great doorway. The sounds of the helicopter died away and there was a pause before a tall lean shape walked in, the faintest trace of a limp the only anomaly in his casual gait. Dressed in what was clearly a handmade Savile Row suit of deep mahogany with an emerald green silk shirt open at the neck, he cut an elegant figure. His deep chestnut hair was casually trimmed, framing a face with a neatly trimmed full beard, the pale skin lightly freckled and eyes hidden by dark shades. At his side walked four shapes: a stocky man with black hair and blue eyes wearing a black blazer, white shirt and grey slacks; a lanky women with long blonde braids, a long face and wearing a brown pinstriped suit; a lanky male with long blond dreadlocks wearing an identical brown pinstriped suit and finally a slender very pretty woman with raven hair braided over her left shoulder and bright green eyes in a calm, cool face, wearing a simple little black dress.

The man looked around, his head swinging to inspect the assembled throng of Berk's great and good and then his lips curled in a small smile.

"Wow-I'll stand aside for whoever you're waiting for," he said in a light, amused voice as Viggo Grimborn walked swiftly forward.

"Mr Fury-I think I speak for everyone when I say that we are all waiting to make your acquaintance," he said smoothly, reaching for the man's hand. Fury paused for a long moment, before grasping the hand and shaking it firmly. As he shook, Viggo stared into his face, hoping to read the expression-but all he met was a small, irritating smile and the reflection of his own frustrated deep brown gaze in the mirror shades.

"Looks like I'm in for a busy evening," Fury commented mildly. "I should warn you, I am terrible with names so I almost certainly won't recall who any of you are." He gave a disarming smile. "However, my assistants will recall for me." He gestured to the stocky man. "Simon Nightmare, my security adviser." He glanced over to the almost identical blonds. "Miss Barf and Mr Belch, my acquisitions and development specialists." Then he glanced over at the raven haired woman. "And Miss Shearer, my personal assistant." From her vantage point, Astrid could see the expression in the woman's eyes and she gave an inner smile: she recognised the affection in the woman's eyes, though she couldn't judge his response. There was an inflection in his voice that suggested some partiality on his part: she suspected they were lovers. She stole a glance at the Wing Maidens and was rewarded by the sight of Atali white with fury and the others not far behind at the implication their target was already attached. Viggo bowed his head and gestured towards the Hall.

"Then I should start by introducing my leading citizens, starting with my brother, Ryker…" he began, gesturing to the powerful shape that walked forward. Adopting a polite expression, Fury shook the man's hand and listened to his clearly shallow greeting. Seeing her husband and his friends surge forward, trying the elbow his way through the throng of merchants and citizens who all imagined they were the most important people in Berk, Astrid backed away, almost pitying the billionaire. He would be busy for some time and she guessed she wasn't important enough to be introduced in any case...though a small part of her was curious. For a man who seemed to treasure his discretion, he certainly knew how to make an entrance. Shaking her head slightly, Astrid walked back, heading for the side of the room where Zephyr was standing with her tray of champagne. Her daughter looked tired and a few strands of her thick auburn hair were escaping from the braid.

"You okay?" Astrid asked, standing beside the younger woman and her daughter nodded.

"My feet are aching," she admitted. "And I've had to restock my tray nine times already. Do people really drink this much?"

"They do when it's free," Astrid told her dryly. "And while you may have noticed already, Berkians tend to be greedy, not especially bright and rather inflated with the sense of their own importance." Zephyr tried not to snigger.

"Oh, that is so true, Mom," she admitted, trying to look serious as she had been ordered to do. "I mean, many of them don't even acknowledge I am a person and some of them have asked me if I know who they are. And when I don't know, they just keep droning on about how important they are…" Astrid smiled.

"That is very true," she sighed. "I mean, they were always like this but before you were born, when we had Mayor Stoick, he made sure everyone was treated equally. He treated everyone as his equal. And he was a kind and generous man." She sighed and the girl realised that she had known the man.

"Are you okay, Mom?" she asked gently as the woman forced herself to smile.

"Yes," she sighed. "His son was my first love. My only real love."

"Is he the one Dad sometimes sneers about when…" Zephyr asked and Astrid nodded.

"When we argue," she concluded. "Yes. He was Dad's best friend. He gave Dad a job and helped him. Dad…stabbed him in the back."

"So why are you with Dad?" Zephyr asked and Astrid closed her eyes.

"My…friend…was arrested and convicted of treason. And that was wrong, a lie, a farce," she said evenly. "It wasn't his treason. He was framed and shipped out to prison. His Dad and I never gave up and we appealed, even trying to get the Prosecutor replaced and appealing to the Council of First Ministers…but before we could succeed, my friend…killed himself. The prison was so horrendous, so devastating that he couldn't cope any more and he took his life rather than hang on."

Zephyr swallowed, hearing her mother's voice waver.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. Astrid sighed and absently patted her arm.

"After he was gone…well, your Dad had been pestering me every day since my friend was arrested. And he wouldn't take no for an answer. My family was all gone and the Mayor…well, things went south and I spoke to him. He told me I had to do what I could to try to clear my friend and to look after myself. So I finally acquiesced. And he insisted we were married straight away so that he could show the world that he had got everything that had been his friend's."

"That sounds horrible," Zephyr said, her voice shocked. Sighing, Astrid nodded.

"It is," she confessed. "But your Dad isn't the nicest person." There was a raucous laugh and they both looked over as Eret clapped the lean shape of the billionaire on the shoulder.

"Dad's been drinking," Zephyr sighed, looking down.

"Dad's always been drinking," her mother confirmed. "He's either drunk, drinking or hung over. When he's home at all."

"So why don't you leave him, Mom?" the younger woman asked her softly. Astrid looked up sharply. It was the last thing that she had expected her daughter to suggest. "I know you're not at all happy."

"I made my choice many years ago," she sighed.

"And if you hadn't, you wouldn't have us," the girl added. Astrid conceded with a small smile.

"You and Finky are my greatest achievements," she said softly. "And I could never leave you with Dad if I left him. Because he would fight in the courts to keep 'his' children. He's much more ruthless and rich than I am and I know, with his friends in the Granite Office and on the Council, I would never hope to win and keep you. And why would I want to disrupt your lives for a situation that has existed since the day I accepted his offer? Maybe when you are both grown up and have left home for College, I will think again about my future. But until then…I stay."

"Not sure Dad wants us to go to College," Zephyr said softly. "He always laughs when I mention it. He keeps saying I won't need it for what I will be doing…"

"He wants you married to one of his business partners in payment for loans or contracts," Astrid said grimly. "I won't allow that. You're a brilliant artist, Zeph. And I will make sure you get the chance to pursue what you want to do with your life-preferably off Berk and away from this poisonous place…" She sighed. "Don't worry, Zeph. I won't let your Dad use you in any of his business schemes, no matter what emotional pressure he tries to put on you." She rested her hand on the young woman's arm. "Always remember, Zeph-whatever trouble Dad says he's in probably doesn't exist. And it is _his_ trouble, not yours. And you shouldn't put your life at risk or have your life ruined just to bail him out when he should have the balls to face up to his own mistakes, rather than making everyone else sort them out for him."

"Mind if I interrupt?" an unfamiliar voice said and Astrid's head snapped round-to see her surprised expression reflected in Tallon Fury's shades as the man himself stood a mere couple of feet away. He offered a small smile. "I wonder if I could possibly have a drink?" Zephyr's blue eyes widened and she started.

"I am so sorry, sir," she said and tried to offer him a drink-but her tray tilted and a flute fell over, splashing champagne over the tray and onto his jacket. She gasped and her face was stricken. "Oh Thor, I am so sorry…" she mumbled. "I'm so clumsy. Please let me get a cloth…"

"Let me," Astrid said briskly and fished a paper tissue from her purse, deftly wiping the fluid off. The billionaire watched them with a small smile. "I'm sorry as well," she added, looking up into the handsome face. The man gave a small chuckle.

"I don't normally have this effect on people," he apologised. "Can't think what has caused it…"

"I think…you're their first billionaire," she told him dryly. He chuckled.

"I'm just a normal guy. The only difference is that my bank account looks like a telephone number," he quipped, reaching out and grasping a flute. He looked from women to woman. "She's your daughter?" he asked Astrid and she nodded.

"Astrid Eretson," she introduced herself. "This is my daughter, Zephyr. She's getting work experience." The man gave a genuine smile.

"She has your eyes," he commented. "And we all have to learn." He tipped the flute slightly and sipped the dry liquid. "Good luck with the work experience, Zephyr, Mrs Eretson." Then he turned and walked back to the effective scrum of leading citizens who were all competing to get his attention and befriend the newcomer. Zephyr sighed.

"He was so nice," she sighed. "And I looked like a total klutz." Astrid smiled and collected herself a drink from the tray.

"Yes, he was very patient," she admitted. "You know your father and his friends wouldn't have been."

"Maybe, because he's rich and everyone is fawning over him, he can afford to be kind?" Zephyr asked as Astrid narrowed her eyes. There was a sense of familiarity about the tall, lean bearded man that had her confused.

"No," she murmured. "If a person is decent, that's because it's who they are. When you spilled the champers on him, Zeph, he didn't bat an eyelid. Most people here would shout or sneer."

"Most people here aren't very nice, are they?" Zephyr commented dryly.

"What did our famous guest want?" Both women started as Eret's voice cut across their soft discussion. The man approached brashly, a tumbler of bourbon grasped in his hand.

"A glass of champagne, apparently," Astrid replied sharply. Eret chugged a mouthful of his liquor and gave her a sneering look.

"I noted he couldn't keep his eyes off you," he snarked.

"How? He wears those sunglasses all the time," Astrid retorted. Eret chuckled.

"He was glancing over in your direction even while he was talking to half of the leading citizens in Berk," he scoffed.

"Really?" Astrid's voice was cynical. "I suspect he was just looking for a drink since Viggo pounced on him before the poor man could be served."

"And yet…he made a bee-line for the most attractive woman in the room," Eret said. "What did he say?" Astrid frowned. Eret's jealousy over her interaction was incredibly irking when he was incapable being faithful himself. The young woman she had been refused to rehearse every word she spoke to anyone for Eret and that had led to furious rows and even more furious fights. Pragmatic in the face of her vicious and cruel husband, she had learned to control her temper and reveal as little as she needed to.

"There really is little to discuss," she said evenly. "He came over for a glass of champagne, Zeph accidentally knocked one over and I mopped it up. He was very nice and then he returned to the scrum of grasping Hooligans over there."

"I might have known Zeph would make a fool of herself," Eret added cruelly. "I'm surprised that you haven't fallen over your own feet or dropped the entire tray." Astrid instinctively glanced over to her daughter, seeing her pale, freckled cheeks warm with embarrassment.

"It could have happened to anyone," she said firmly. But Eret's eyes narrowed with malice.

"And yet-it always happens to Zephyr," he insisted. "You could have ruined our chances with the man."

"And yet she didn't," Astrid retorted. "He was very pleasant. Off you go and circulate, Zeph. And don't listen to Dad. Go." The girl swiftly scooted away, leaving Astrid with her husband. Eret was standing close to her, swiftly draining his bourbon and watching the mysterious billionaire.

"Did he say anything else?" he hissed.

"He clocked Zephyr was my daughter by her eyes," she replied.

"Did he show any interest?" Eret asked directly. She stilled and stared at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked in a freezing voice. He leaned close.

"Did. He. Show. Any _Interest_?" he repeated, emphasising each word. They both understood the meaning and Astrid's fists clenched.

"You're despicable," she hissed. "Zephyr is sixteen. For you to even suggest…"

"He's a billionaire and I need investment," Eret hissed. "If he wants to fuck my daughter-or my wife-he can do whatever he wants, as long as he pays for it." Astrid jerked away from him, a look of disgust on her face.

"Maybe you should offer yourself, since it's your mess," she hissed back.

"Oh, I would if I thought I could get a seven figure payout-but the way he looks at 'Miss Shearer' tells me he doesn't swing that way. Maybe you…"

"You can go fuck yourself," Astrid hissed. "You stole everything you have-maybe you should finally earn something…" He grabbed her arm, the grip tight and turning her skin white. She gritted her teeth, knowing he wouldn't strike her in public.

"I own you," he reminded her cruelly. "And you better readjust your attitude. I've invited him for dinner. And the first Minister and Council. So get a sumptuous meal organised, _wife_ and put your best face on. Next week Mr Fury will be visiting our home and by the time he leaves, he will be our best friend." And then he released her arm, swinging off in search of more bourbon, leaving her absently rubbing the red weal on her arm and gazing at the tall man. For a second, the man lifted his head and gazed in her direction, meeting her thoughtful gaze-and then he raised his flute-still barely sipped-and smiled at her before turning back to his latest new acquaintance and almost completely ignoring Atali and her Wing Maiden cronies. Unbidden, Eret's words rolled round her head once more.

_Is he interested?_

Curiously unsettled, Astrid turned away in search of Zephyr once more.

oOo

Hiccup sat back in the seat of his helicopter as they rose above the Plaza outside the Great Hall and slowly ascended over the gaily-lit town of Berk and gave a huge sigh. It had been an exhausting evening.

"Thank Thor that's done," he exhaled, looking over at his friends.

"You were awesome as ever, Ingen," Tuff complimented him as Snotlout sat up front with Cami, their pilot. They circled round and then headed away from the bright lights, over towards the west of the island and Raven Point. Breathing deeply, the mysterious Tallon Fury removed his shades and ran his hands through his auburn hair.

"That was hard," Hiccup admitted. "When I saw Viggo, I was scared he would recognise me…but then I asked myself why he would recall a young man he saw a couple of times over fifteen years ago who he sent to his death? And then I felt a sudden wave of anger when I saw him in my father's place, holding court like a Chief and welcoming me to my home island which he took from me."

"That must have been hard," Heather said softly. Quietly, Hiccup glanced over to her and moved his hand to brush against hers.

"Are you okay?" he asked her gently, his tone concerned and she nodded silently, the expression in her eyes thoughtful. She nodded again.

"Going to a function like that brought up a lot of memories…" she admitted. "I mean, not at first when I was first forced to work…but after a while, after they had made sure I wouldn't run or resist, clients used to take me to parties, used me as an escort to enhance their appearance as well as…" His hand closed around hers.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I never meant for you to feel at all uncomfortable." But she looked up, her green eyes filled with sudden worry.

"It's okay," she said quickly. "Please, I want to help you. Any way I can. You rescued me, Ingen. I will do whatever you ask." But he turned to face her, carefully taking her hands in his.

"Heather-you only have to do what _you_ want," he told her gently, inspecting her pretty face and seeing the anxiety in her expression. "Please, if you don't feel comfortable doing something, if it stirs up bad memories or you don't want to do something…tell me. You can refuse. You have a right to say no to _anything_." She looked away, closing her eyes and sighing.

"I-I don't want to anger you," she whispered. "You have done so much for me. You literally saved me. And I will do whatever you ask to help you finish your plan."

"Heather…" he murmured as her fingers curled around his.

"Whatever you ask of me, I will always say yes," she whispered. He sighed and sat back in his seat as they banked and circled round his new home.

"Please remember you can always say no," he asked her as Tuff and Ruff shared a look.

"Well, that's not at all awkward," Ruff muttered as Hiccup looked up and gave a small smile.

"Nope," he said. "Heather and you guys were superb. You all played your parts well."

"Hey, I could spend my entire life being the security chief for a billionaire," Snotlout called from the front. "I mean, I could really get used to this…"

"Me too," Tuff admitted. "I mean, the lifestyle not the subterfuge…which is also awesome by the way. In fact, that is much more fun than being a smuggler. Though that was fun…"

By now even Heather was smiling at the male twin's unbridled enthusiasm. Ruff unexpectedly gave her twin a hug.

"And I couldn't be more grateful to you guys for your support and help," Hiccup said honestly as they high-fived him. "And that was just the start…"

"Almost everyone invited us round for dinner, barbecue, cocktails, picnics, lunch, breakfast or just a cup of coffee and a business meeting," Heather confirmed. "I noted them all down so you can decide which ones to accept and which to decline or postpone." Hiccup nodded and then he started out of the window as Cami hovered the helicopter down over the illuminated landing pad..

"I saw her," he murmured as every eye turned on her. "She's as beautiful as the last day I saw her. And…calmer. But also…sad. The light has gone from her face, from her eyes. She is surviving but she's not happy."

"Which is what she deserves, from what you said?" Ruff asked gently as he nodded, pursing his lips.

"Yes," he sighed, taking a shuddering breath. "She has a daughter. She has her eyes. She's maybe sixteen…" He shook his head. "It means she conceived her shortly after she married him. While I was still rotting in jail, while I was still hoping and praying that she was trying to get me out and overturn my wrongful conviction, she had married the man who set me up and already conceived his child. And yes, he is drunk and from what we've already learned before we even declared ourselves, he's a womaniser and a gambler and a bad businessman. His commercial interests are all mortgaged to the hilt, even the casino is losing money and the house is collateral against the debts. They are certainly unhappily married and he's probably violent towards her."

"Poor woman," Heather murmured as Hiccup sat back. They touched down and the engines throttled back and were switched off.

"She made her choice," he sighed. "And though she and all my family were told I was dead…she didn't wait. She just…went ahead. And she abandoned Dad. Everything that happens is deserved."

"And her children?" Heather asked him. Hiccup rose, grabbing his shades and opening the door, his face grim. He jumped down from the cabin, heading directly back to the house.

"Why should they profit from my decade in hell?" he asked and walked away.


	17. The Owner of Raven Point

**Seventeen: The Owner of Raven Point**

Eret Nuffink Hiccup Eretson Junior-usually known as Nuffink or Finky to his sister and Fink to his Mother-accelerated his motorcycle up the narrow, winding road towards Raven Point Forest, slewing round corners in a manner his mother would definitely have disapproved of. His black helmet was marked with dragon scales and his tinted visor covered his face as he leaned low over the bike, his black leathers also marked with dragon scales. A daredevil and already junior champion of Berk, Nuffink had been riding up and around Raven Point since he was six and he had been as upset as his mother when the area had been fenced off by the new owner.

But unlike his mother, Nuffink wasn't one to stick to the rules and he had been intermittently visiting the area since it had been fenced off, carefully avoiding any security. The area was familiar but was the most challenging topography on the island and if he wanted to keep his championship, he needed to keep practising on the area-no matter that it was now forbidden. And it had been no effort to sneak out of the house, for his Mom and Dad had had another one of their stand up rows, his father yelling at his mother and threatening to divorce her and render her penniless as usual while she had retorted by accusing him of incompetence, corruption, philandering and drunkenness-all of which Nuffink knew were valid observations. His sister had been hiding in the den, working on her Art assignment as well as her other lessons. Zeph was ferociously intelligent and artistic and Nuffink knew that she should not only go to College but was on course to be accepted a year early…if their father would allow it. The problem was that Eret was a controlling ass and his world view wouldn't consider his daughter studying and having any sort of life that she had planned: instead, Nuffink knew their father planned to marry off his sister to some old man in return for covering his business debts and that would wreck his sister's life. Somehow, Nuffink would find a way to stop it.

He took the right fork and followed the road round the coast until they dived into the woods-and hit the barrier. Undeterred, he left the road and drove along the line fo the fence until he reached the ditch where an ash tree had fallen and breached the barrier. Without even hesitating, he accelerated and roared along the trunk, flying over the lowered fence and landing on the mossy earth of the forest. Glancing over his shoulder with a triumphant grin, he gunned the engine and sped off up the slope, dodging spruce trees and avoiding the bramble patches, mud flying up as his heavily treaded tyres churned up the earth. Rising in the saddle, he expertly bounced over ditches, sped down galleys and finally burst through the tree line to the lip of the Cove.

But when he looked down, he felt his heart sink. The Cove was empty and the camouflage nets and branches that he and his mother had kept there had all been removed. And Toothless was gone.

Strangely, he felt winded. The old aircraft had meant almost everything to his mother, a special place where she let her guard down and talked in gentle and sad tones about the friend she had lost, the man she had loved before she married their father-and still loved now. A man who had built the aircraft from the wreck it had been with love and attention and who had been the person who his Mom had spoken about with a smile. It was the only place where he had seen his Mom happy and he knew that she was heartbroken when the Cove was fenced off. So Nuffink had occasionally sneaked in to check the old aircraft was safe. But he hadn't been up for three months, what with school and his training and he bitterly regretted not visiting the little Cove more often.

Carefully, he drove down to the small crevice that formed the door entrance to the Cove and killed the engine, carefully resting his bike against the rock and then pulling off his helmet and resting it on the handlebars. Deftly, he bounded down, slipping through the narrow crevice and jumping down to the patch where the aircraft had rested. The grass and moss had almost completely died back and Nuffin cast around, then skirted the cove, gathering a small handful of daisies and buttercups that he wrapped into a tiny bouquet using a couple of long blades of cooch grass. Silently, he rested the bouquet directly in the middle fo the bare patch, then dropped to his knees, then sat back on his heels.

"I'm sorry they took your plane," the young man said, his spiky blond hair the exact colour of his mother's. His face was thoughtful, a ready grin and sparkling green eyes meaning there were a lot of Junior girls who flirted with him-and not just for his supposed money. Lean and a little lanky, he was already a couple of inches taller than his mother and still growing, though his father constantly teased him for being a stick rather than the buff shape he was. His father was the only person who called him Eret, in fact-because he was determined that his son would inherit the Eretson name. And he knew that Nuffink had acquired his other names from his mother, in defiance of her husband, because she had chosen names she would have used with the man she loved-who he was named after. "I know Mom looked after him for all these years…but it just became impossible. And I'm sure how I could have stopped them but I would have tried."

He sighed.

"Mom is really unhappy," he revealed. "I mean, I'm sure you already know, watching down from Valhalla or wherever…but she doesn't deserve Dad. And I know she stays with him because of us but he is just worse and worse to her. I wish we all could leave." He sighed again. "I wish you were still alive. Because maybe then, Mom would be happy. And maybe, you could be my Dad. I mean, there is no way you could be a millionth of the asshole my actual Dad is. I mean…Gods! If he could embarrass me more than he does, it would be a miracle. And when he calls me 'EJ' I just wanna puke. And when he looks at Zeph and then talks about how she would make a good wife for one of his business partners…well, my skin crawls because he doesn't even see her as worth anything except a profit. I mean, she's my sister. And I-I don't know what I can do to…"

"HEY! YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?"

Nuffink's head snapped up and he stared at the shapes peering over the edge of the Cove. Scrambling to his feet, he sprinted for the crevice.

"Shoot," he hissed, scrabbling up to his bike, jamming the helmet on and kick-starting the engine. He could hear engines closing as he shifted into gear and gunned the engine, lurching fast up the slope and past three shapes on Quad bikes that were closing on his location. Grinning at the prospect he snatched a glance over his shoulder and accelerated forward.

"Come back here!"

"Hey, old guys! You think you know Raven Point better than me?' he called and then leaned forward, dinking through the trees and skidding down the steep little track. To their credit, the pursuers followed him, two of them whooping and yelling while one just cursed a blue streak. But they remained on his tail, splaying out wide as they tried to flank him. Knuckles tightening as he gripped the handlebars more tightly, he saw one move ahead to the left-where he had intended to turn-and then broke through the trees onto a gravel roadway that hadn't been here before. Skidding along, he accelerated down the hill, heading for the fence and hoping he could escape them. The sounds of their engines were really close and as he checked, another had joined them, making four pursuers coming after the young man.

"Shoot shoot, shoot," he muttered, racing along as fast as he could. The road gently inclined downwards, straight and clear and the woods were thick with brambles, making escape almost impossible. The bikers behind him were closing and he snatched another glance over his shoulder, then spun round a curve to the fence-and found his way barred by gates. He skidded and tried to turn but the four pursuers were almost on him. He tried to dink sideways but one of the bikers threw themselves onto him and found himself borne to the ground, the breath squashed from hiss body and himself pinned by a buxom blonde shape with wild hair poking out from under a deep purple helmet. Twisting his arm across his back and pressing his face down into he ground, she flipped her visor up, revealing an exultant face and sparkling blue eyes.

"Gotcha," she said. The other three pulled to a halt.

"Aww-it was my turn, Cami…" a male whined, pulling off his helmet off and releasing his long fair dreadlocks.

"Way to go, Cam!" a lanky female added, her long blonde braids disarrayed. The last biker dismounted and walked forward. Stocky and powerful looking, the man seemed to have black hair and cool blue eyes.

"Who are you?" he demanded, gesturing for the others to haul Nuffink to his feet. The young man struggled.

"Get off me!" he shouted. The stocky man nodded and his helmet was ripped off, revealing his face.

"Thor, it's just a kid," the buxom woman, Cami, said in surprise.

"He's a hell of a biker," the dreadlocked man commented.

"And he's trespassing, Tuff," the stocky man told him flatly.

"Awww, Snot-can't you cut the kid some slack?" the woman with the long braids asked in a wheedling voice.

"Yeah, Ruff-because that's what a Chief of Security does-he watches people break into the area he's supposed to be protecting and he _lets them off!_ " the stocky man, Snot, replied sarcastically. "Muttonhead," he added under his breath.

"I heard that!"

"You were meant to," Snot growled.

"I wasn't doing any harm!" Nuffink protested. "I was just biking…"

"This is private property," Snot told him.

"It didn't used to be," Nuffink argued. "I've been coming up here since I was a little kid."

"Well, it is now," Snot told him harshly. "Okay-what's your name, kid?"

"Nuffink," the boy said. Ruff and Tuff started sniggering.

"What?" Snot asked.

"Nuffink. Or Fink. That's what they call me," the young man told him with a smirk.

"And your family name?" Snot pressed.

"Can't remember," Nuffink lied. Snot scowled at him, trying to ignore the twins, who were roaring with laughter.

"I like this kid-sassy little bastard that he is," Tuff commented. His sister nodded sagely.

"We were just like him when we were younger."

"Happy days," Tuff agreed.

"Why you little…" Snotlout growled, ignoring them. Then he shook his head. "Shame, I had hoped we could just speak to your parents about this…but if not…we can just call the police and they can arrest you for trespassing. I'm sure they would be able to find out who your parents are and can tell them why you've been charged…" Nuffink's emerald eyes widened in shock and dismay. The last thing he wanted was his father involved, having his friends bail him out and then having his ear bent by his Dad who hated to lose face and have to thank his friends for sorting out his family. He'd been grounded for sure-if not having his bike sold as a punishment. Nuffink wasn't sure he could stand to stay on Berk if he couldn't bike, because it was the only time he felt anything other than a prisoner… The beating he'd certainly get would be nothing by comparison. Reluctantly, he shook his head.

"Please…don't…" he murmured. "Eretson. My name is Nuffink Eretson." The stocky man inspected him carefully and then nodded.

"Okay-we'll take you up to the house and you can speak to the man whose land you've trespassed on," he said. "We'll see what he wants to do with you." Nuffink found himself bundled behind the male twin while Snot lashed his bike to the back of his own. Then he looked at the young man. "If you try to run, we'll call your father and keep your bike. Understand?"

"Yes," Nuffink replied sulkily, hanging onto the male twin as they headed back up the path to the house. Even through his dismay and worry about what would befall him, he was able to recognise that Tuff was an excellent rider and rather than worrying about what was going to happen when they reached the house, he focussed on the ride. But his eyes widened as they topped the rise and reached the magnificent new home that had been constructed on the edge of the forest, overlooking Thor's Bay and the Sullen Sea. Two tall storeys high and extremely modern, the building seemed to be mostly glass with wooden frame, solar panels and a living roof over the garage. Instinctively, Nuffink realised this was the latest technology and he stared as they sped round to the back of the house, where a helicopter was sitting on the pad and underneath, the doors to a hanger were open, revealing the familiar grubby shape of…

"Toothless!" Nuffink's eyes widened in shock as they pulled up and he jumped off the bike. "Toothless!"

There was a movement and the young man saw a long, lanky pair of legs sticking out from behind the pilot seat. They were sheathed in a slightly beat-up pair of jeans and sturdy leather boots and as he watched, a man reversed out and looked up. He was wearing a green check shirt open at the neck and rolled up above the elbows, his face framed by messy very dark auburn hair, his emerald eyes sparkling and a smear of grease on his cheek, above his neatly trimmed beard. For a second, Nuffink felt a thrill of fear: he knew that if he was facing one of his father's business associates, he would be in real trouble. They would be cruel, sneering, maybe threatening and when he got home, he would definitely be grounded and certainly beaten as well. But the man facing him looked up with interest, a small smirk on his face.

"What did you call him?" he asked, his voice light and nasal.

"Toothless," Nuffink said. "Because that's what he's called."

"Really?"

"He belongs to my Mom," the young man continued firmly. "Well, he used to belong to Mom's boyfriend but he was arrested and died so he belongs to Mom. She hid him to stop the people responsible for her friend's problems getting him and she used to visit him every couple of weeks because it was the last thing she had of him. She used to take us to visit him as well-my sister and me-and we would spend time with him as well. My sis drew him and us and I…well, there was a book in there on engineering and mechanics and I just read it over and over so when I got my bike, I stripped the engine down and rebuilt it just because of the book…"

"This aircraft is on my property so it belongs to me," the man said, his amused gaze flicking to the stocky man behind him. "Why is he here, by the way?"

"He was trespassing at the Cove," Snotlout told him.

"He put a small bouquet where the aircraft had been," Cami reported. The man frowned.

"Really?" he asked. "Why?" Nuffink looked self-conscious.

"Because Mom always did-but she hasn't been able to come up here since the fences went up," he explained. "But I have-so I put a bouquet there for her. I mean…she was heartbroken when she lost access to the Cove."

"But you don't respect other people's property?" Hiccup asked him dryly, reading the fervour on the young man's face. The lad's blond hair was as messy as his own tended to be and his emerald eyes were bright with honesty.

"Um…usually," Nuffink explained. "But no one said who owned the area and it's the best place to practice so I didn't know who to ask…and I wanted to visit Toothless. Mom and Dad are rowing and…well, I guess her friend would want to know." Hiccup sighed.

"What's your name, kid?" he asked.

"Nuffink."

"Really?" His voice was cynical. The young man's shoulders slumped.

"Actually, it's Eret Nuffink Hiccup Eretson Junior," he revealed in a defeated voice. "I know, right? I mean could it be worse? I'm named after my father-who's a total ass-and my Mom's friend Hiccup-I mean who is called Hiccup? Really? Why? And then my own name is Nuffink! I've always wondered why Mom felt she really had to call me such a rubbish set of names."

"Hey, I've known worse," Hiccup admitted, smothering his smile. "This is Berk, after all."

"Definitely on the Meridian of Misery," Nuffink agreed. "So what are you doing to Toothless?" Hiccup rested a tender hand on the panel.

"Repairing him," he admitted. "He's a Night Strike-a very rare example. And he has suffered for however long he's been here…"

"About seventeen years," Nuffink helpfully supplied. "I think they called him Toothless because most of this kind of aircraft are armed and he isn't…hence Toothless…" He edged forward. "Will he ever fly?" Hiccup nodded.

"He needs rebuilding-again-but he'll get back in the air," he assured the boy. "But what am I going to do with you?" The young man lifted his chin.

"You could let me go," he said. "With a warning. Or you could call my parents-I would prefer Mom, to be honest. Dad will go crazy if you call him and I will end up grounded forever. Or you could call the police because I was trespassing and then you would get the chance to go to my funeral because Dad would definitely kill me…" Hiccup rose and walked over to the young man, then glanced over at his bike.

"You any good?" he asked. Nuffink nodded.

"Junior Island Champion," he said proudly. "And I need to keep practising to maintain my edge…or I'll get beaten…"

"And Raven Point is the best place to practice?" Hiccup checked seeing the boy nod. "How did you get in?"

"A tree has fallen on the fence about four hundred metres coastwards from the place where the fence cuts across the forest road," he admitted. Hiccup nodded to his assistants and the boy felt his heart sink, knowing his secret way in would be blocked. "Sorry," he mumbled. Inspecting the boy, the tall man walked forward and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, giving a squeeze.

"Look, Nuffink, I'm not going to get you into trouble," he said thoughtfully. "And you can come up to Raven Point to practice if you wish-but please check in with the house first so we know you're here. And if you want to chat to Ruff and Tuff-who are the two best and craziest bikers I know-then feel free." Nuffink's emerald eyes widened in shock.

"Really? For real?" he asked. Hiccup smiled.

"The only thing I ask in return is that you tell me when your race is, so I can come along and cheer for you," he said, earning a genuine smile from the lad. "Now off you go." There was a pause and then Nuffink offered his hand.

"Thank you, sir," he said honestly and then he paused. "Seriously. I am really grateful. If you need anything and I can help, I will."

"I may hold you to that, Nuffink," Hiccup commented with a small smile. Then the young man frowned.

"What do I call you?" he asked warily. Hiccup smiled.

"Ingen," he said and shook the young man's hand. Grinning, Nuffink turned and ran to grab his bike and speed away, leaving the billionaire to watch him with troubled eyes. Cami and Snotlout moved to his side.

"You want us to take any further action?" the stocky man asked but Hiccup shook his head.

"He's just a kid," he murmured. "And he's Astrid's son. So she has a son and a daughter. And they don't look that young…"

"I'll ask Fish to do some digging," Snotlout suggested and Hiccup nodded.

"I want to know everything about Zephyr and Nuffink Eretson," he said. "Somewhere in there, I may find a way to start…" And then he turned back to Toothless. Cami and Snotlout walked slowly away, still hearing the faint sound of the motorbike receding in the distance. The woman, daughter of the Mayor of Bog and a close ally of Hiccup, shook her head.

"Do you think he realises?" she murmured.

"What?"

"It's like looking in a mirror," she said. "That boy has Ingen's eyes."


	18. Into The Lion's Den

**Eighteen: Into the Lion's den**

The House looked spectacular, the floodlights illuminating the brilliant white frontage and making the extravagant construction glow against the dark sky. The drive was illuminated with small lights that lined the edges of the tarmac, leading up to the large gravel parking area in front of the double doors that were open to reveal the glass inner doors. Eret had spared no expense, with flaming torches in the gardens, highlighting the beautiful manicured gardens that spread below the house on the ridge and a glorious fireworks display planned for the height of the celebration.

The gravel parking area was already busy with chauffeurs and large, statement cars from those who chose to drive themselves. Eret had servants valet park the vehicles and a doorman was sternly admitting every invitee, checking their gilt-edged cream card invitations and announcing them as they were conducted into the Hallway. Servants were standing by in deep navy uniforms, trays of drinks and canapés held steadily. Eret had forbidden Zephyr from helping, of course, because he had no desire to have his daughter embarrass him in front of his friends. He would have confined her to her room, in fact-until Astrid had pointed out that her presence would be expected and having her absent would raise more questions than Eret wanted to answer, leading him to grudgingly allow the girl to attend-under her mother's watchful eye.

Fury arrived in his usual helicopter, the chatter of the rotors announcing his arrival long before he touched down. Everyone stopped and heads all turned to see the aircraft circle the house once more before it neatly touched down just beyond the gravel parking area on a wide path that snaked off into the darkness. As the engine died and the rotors slowed, the watchers inched closer, eyes round with interest and curiosity. At the brilliant door to the house, Eret appeared, his jet hair slicked back into his customary ponytail, his white tux and black pants elegant and highlighting his impressively buff shape. Automatically, he took a swig of whiskey from his crystal glass, his deep hazel eyes sweeping over the show-stopping entrance. Slowly, the rotors stopped and the pilot-a blonde women wearing shades and a professional dark suit-clambered out and opened the door, allowing her passenger to emerge.

Stepping down easily, Fury paused and murmured a thank you to his pilot, then turned and inspected the road to the house. He was clothed in a fitted black tuxedo and black dress pants. His dress shirt was a plain mandarin-necked cream silk with a narrow green edge to the collar and he wore no tie. His lips tilted into a practiced smile and the lights of the house reflected in his customary mirror sunglasses as his security chief emerged behind him sweeping the area with his alert blue gaze. And then the billionaire set off towards the house, walking forward with the slightest of limps, crossing the gravel parking area with the shorter, stocky shape of Snotlout walking a pace behind and to the side of him in an anonymous black suit and black shirt. Fury nodded pleasantly to the assembled gawkers and they all nodded, speechless and embarrassed that they had been caught as he swept by and walked up to the door. Not even hesitating for a second, he walked up the steps and stuck his hand out, his smile widening very slightly as he approached the host.

"Mr Eretson," he greeted pleasantly. "It's a pleasure to see you again so soon. This is a spectacular place!" Blinking, Eret regained his composure rapidly and gripped Fury's hand firmly, feeling an equally firm grip back as he smiled insincerely.

"Built it myself," he said proudly. "Had to demolish an old building that was obstructing my view down the slope but this is a home that is commensurate with my status." Fury nodded, sweeping his concealed gaze over the vista, seeing the lights of the town spread below the ridge in a view that he recalled from his own childhood.

"It's an impressive estate," he agreed. "Excellent position, looking down over the town-and your neighbours?" Eret gave a chuckle and took another swig of his whiskey.

"In an island community, a man has to fight for his position," he said smugly. "And I have fought and used every means I could to ensure that I am in the position I am in." Fury gave a small knowing smile.

"I see," he said neutrally. "I will be interested to see what your home looks like inside…" The prompt was subtle and Eret stood back a step, gesturing for his guest to walk in and marvel at his personal palace. A magnificent marble staircase swept down from the wide landing in an elegant curve, dominating the huge hall. To the right was a pair of ten feet high double doors that were flung open to allow seamless traffic in and out of a magnificent reception room that wouldn't look out of place in 18th Century France, the mouldings elegant and a self-aggrandising painting on the ceiling, aping the roof of the Sistine Chapel with God's hand reaching out to what was clearly Eret, not Adam, a smug smile on the man's face. Astrid, Nuffink and Zephyr appeared as angels, hovering around the buff shape fo Eret. The walls were a deep regency green and the floor an inlaid marble. Regency-style lights and a couple of enormous ostentatious chandeliers hung from the roof, washing the entire space with bright lights. In the corner, a piano was playing softly as the gentle hubbub of the guests filled the space.

Fury walked in and looked up, giving a small nod of approval, hiding his emotions as he took in the wide hall, the walls white and floor dark mahogany. Eret frowned and gestured for his glass to be refilled.

"I wonder where my wife…" he began and then looked up. Hiccup followed his gaze and then froze, staring as Astrid appeared at the top of the stairs, her sleek shape sheathed in a strapless ultramarine silk gown that reached her knees, a diamond choker glittering at her slender throat and diamond studs in her ears. Her long blonde hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders in a golden sheet that almost glowed in the light. Her eyes glittered and she wore no other jewellery except her wedding band-and the little silver and aquamarine ring on her right hand. Golden strappy heels finished her outfit-but she turned and glanced over at the self-conscious shape at her side.

Zephyr was as slender as her mother, her hands clasped anxiously in front of her waist and her shape sheathed in a knee length shift dress of deep stormy blue satin, her thick auburn hair tamed into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, her blue eyes wide and anxious. She was wearing bronze coloured simple heels and a thin chain around her neck with a simple heart pendant that Hiccup recognised with a jolt as a gift he had given to Astrid on graduation. Smiling gently at her daughter, Astrid led her down the stairway, her elegant descent drawing every eye and allowing Zephyr to walk sedately behind her without having to draw the eye. Eret gestured proudly.

"Fury-may I present my wife Astrid and my daughter Zephyr!" he said as the pair reached the foot of the staircase. Adopting a small smile, Hiccup took Astrid's hand and ghosted a kiss on the knuckles.

"Enchante," he said smoothly. "You look even more gorgeous than you did in the Great Hall, Mrs Eretson." She gave a polite smile and retrieved her hand.

"Please, call me Astrid," she asked him calmly as he turned to the younger woman with a small smile.

"And Miss Eretson-I see they have relieved you of duty for the night," he said gently as she blushed.

"Um…yeah…my father didn't like me working and doing it here would bring shame on the family…" she mumbled. He gently took her hand and repeated the chivalrous gesture.

"I am just teasing you, Zephyr," he told her gently. "I admire a young woman who learns how to do honest work, even when she comes from money. The values of hard work, team working and customer service are always valuable." Her blue eyes flicked up, so similar to Astrid's, and she smiled.

"Thank you, Mr Fury," she said softly and he smiled, winking at her though she couldn't see the gesture. "And I promise not to spill any more champagne over you…" He chuckled at her spirit.

"If you ever want more experience, I would happy to accommodate you," he promised as Eret wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"I am grateful," he said brashly, steering him away from the girl. "I mean, a man must teach his family to value what he provides-and show off what he possesses. Am I right? And a beautiful wife and daughter are certainly worth having." Fury nodded, noting how he described his family-and what was not said.

 _Nothing about love or affection. Nothing about accomplishments or interests. Just there for the look of the thing and how he can utilise them to further his own image_ , he thought silently.

"You are certainly to be envied," he commented as Eret steered him into the reception room, leaving his family behind.

"Now, let me introduce you to the other leading guests…" he continued, beckoning the first man forward. The dapper shape of Johann smiled, his eyes twinkling as he stepped forward, his silver tuxedo gleaming in the lights. He offered a hand and Fury grasped it firmly, staring into the eyes of the Trade Minister. He had learned a lot about Johann Trayder over the last couple of years as he had really started his preparations to return to Berk and the man's name cropped up everywhere. If there was a block to trade or some unreasonable rule, regulation or tariff, Johann Trader's name would inevitably turn up somewhere in the conversation. It was also clear that the man was subtly but sequentially undermining the interests of Archipelago prosperity by almost creating a trade war within the Archipelago in the hope of setting the islands against one another. His allies on Bog, Paxlandia and Berserk had all complained bitterly of the actions of their Trade Minister.

"Johann Trayder," the man introduced himself, smiling insincerely. "And I have no need for your name, Mr Tallon Fury. You are the greatest success story in the history of the Archipelago! I mean, I have dealt with the uber-rich and the global elite and I never would've imagined that one such person could come from the Archipelago-and in such a short space of time. Have you any tips?" The last question was asked with wry good humour but Hiccup gave a chuckle.

"Inherit a fortune and use it wisely," he said dryly. "Oh and find an incredibly expensive product that people want to buy in huge numbers!" Johann burst out in forced laughter.

"I shall try that," he said hastily. "Now I wonder if we maybe could have a discussion? I know you have already signed some contracts with certain islands…but I wondered if you would consider sharing your bounty around? There are places-such as Jaegerby, Meathead or Shivering Shores that really could do with the economic investment that a contract with Dragon's Edge Aero could bring…" Hiccup gave a small frown, seeing Johann trying to assess his reaction and being thwarted as ever by his mirror sunglasses. He had very good reasons for sticking to his disguise-his unusual and distinct eyes could be recognised by those who knew him being the primary one-but he enjoyed the frustration in the eyes of the men trying to outmanoeuvre him.

"An interesting idea," Hiccup said thoughtfully. "But I'm not really a benevolent fund and the economic woes of your more uncompetitive and unhelpful islands isn't my concern. I run a business and I only deal with those who are willing to make products to my exacting specifications for a competitive price and at the absolute minimal environmental impact."

"I am sure the Archipelago Government can offer grants to support contracts on those islands…" Johann began but Hiccup shook his head.

"I've already negotiated with their First Ministers and we don't share enough common ground to work productively," he said easily. Johann's brows dipped in a scowl for a long moment at the implication before he forced his usual bright and insincere smile back onto his face.

"A pity-but of course, I respect your decisions," he said nonchalantly. "It was just a thought. But don't think I won't be plotting other ways to benefit from the coattails of the Archipelago's only billionaire!"

"No doubt," Hiccup replied guardedly. Eret gave a nod, having watched the exchange and judged that the initial discussion was over. Fury clearly wasn't receptive to just investing where Johann wanted-not that the Trade Minister had expected him to be-but Johann wouldn't give up. He already had very detailed plans about how he would inveigle the man into his orbit and use Tallon Fury to aid his master's conquest. Eret gestured to the next man who was sipping his mead on the rocks.

"And may I introduce you to another member of the Council of Ministers, Ryker Grimborn?" he interrupted, steering 'Fury' away from the Trade Minister and casting Johann a thoughtful look. Hiccup found himself facing the tall and very buff shape of Ryker, in his white tux and shirt and black pants. The man forced a nasty smile onto his face.

"I've waited to meet you for some time," he said gruffly. Hiccup looked up into the cold eyes.

 _I can guarantee I have waited longer to meet you-Ryker Kilian Grimborn,_ he thought, finally facing the man whose initials, RKG, had puzzled him for years in the cold of Jotunheim. He took the man's proffered hand and felt his own grip crushed by the bigger man's grasp. Forcing himself not to wince, he stared boldly into the Minister's face until he released him.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said aloud, seeing the man's dark eyes narrow.

"You have appeared out of thin air," Ryker said without preamble.

"I value my privacy," Hiccup replied amiably.

"I value security more," Ryker told him. "I don't like not knowing everything about an opponent."

 _Me neither-but I seem to be better at uncovering the truth than you,_ Hiccup thought.

"Am I an opponent?" he asked calmly, sipping champagne from the flute he had just grasped from a passing server. "That's disappointing."

"Ryker, Ryker-I am sure you don't mean to insult our honoured guest," Eret said, glaring at the bigger man. Grimborn scowled.

"Anyone I don't know everything about is potential threat," he growled.

"A rather combative mindset," Hiccup commented, his gaze sweeping the room. Viggo was nowhere to be seen and though he was disappointed at not having the chance to spend more time studying his main target up close, a part of him was relieved that he wouldn't have to be on his guard quite as much. Viggo was clearly the most astute and dangerous of his enemies-though the encounter with Johann had shaken him. Hiccup knew of the man's connections to the underworld and knew that the man had been the leader of the smugglers who had ambushed the crew of the Barf'n'Belch and tried to wipe them out. That knowledge had convinced Hiccup that the man was ruthless and evil-notwithstanding his close ties to Drago Bludvist.

"Security is my business and I don't like anomalies," Ryker growled at him.

"And yet your life is filled with them," Hiccup commented. "You're not a Berkian yet you sit as a Berkian Minister on the Council. You have never been elected to office yet you occupy a post that is _by law_ an elected one and your own past is swathed in obscurity as well." Ryker's thick brows dipped.

"Someone has been doing his homework," he growled. Hiccup gave a small smile.

"A good businessman ensures he gathers as much intelligence as he can about those he may be dealing with," he reminded the man, seeing his eyes glitter with anger.

"And yet you have no history until you appeared six years ago," Ryker snapped. "And no track record in business. You just appeared out of thin air-as if you didn't exist at all before then."

 _Well, I had officially died about ten years earlier so I'm not surprised,_ Hiccup thought smugly but he just stared steadily at the frustrated man.

"Clearly I did exist," he pointed out. "I was just a normal person. Maybe I didn't leave much of a footprint before I bought Dragon's Edge Aero." He shrugged. "So what security concerns could an aeroplane manufacturer possibly pose?" Ryker growled at him as he sipped his champagne and then he bowed his head. "Charming to speak to you," he continued. "I am sure we will talk again!" And then he turned away, leaving Eret and Ryker staring after him. The dark-haired man glared at the First Minister's brother.

"Idiot!" he hissed. "We're supposed to be courting him, not scaring him off or worse, making him an enemy!"

"He is an enemy," Ryker corrected him, throwing back his mead. "He doesn't trust you. I wager Johann didn't get anywhere either."

"No-but I didn't expect to," Johann confirmed, walking forward. "A man can be lucky or clever to acquire such wealth. I suspect our Mr Fury is both-but he is extremely cautious. He has clearly learned not to trust…and those idiots in Meathead and Jaegerby haven't helped!"

"My cousin is First Minister of Jaegerby," Ryker pointed out.

"And your brother is First Minister of Berk," Johann retorted. "A situation that by law should not have happened since he is not Berkian and is thus disqualified from being First Minister of Mayor of anything but his home island. Fury picked that one up straight away when not one of the members of the Island Council ever mentioned it at the time. And while Viggo clearly meets residency qualifications now, he didn't when he assumed the post and thus should be disqualified from office." He looked after the tall figure, who was politely taking a canapé and offering a few pleasant words to the young server before circulating. The discreet shape of his personal bodyguard was never more than a couple of steps behind him, always on alert.

"And I don't like the way the man brings his own security," Ryker grumbled.

"Again, he has realised that a man of his substance would be a prime target for kidnappers and smugglers-many of whom I control," Johann commented. "He has clearly done his research on us. The question is-what is his agenda? Why is he here on Berk? Why now?"

"Inconvenient," Ryker commented. "I can arrange for him to meet an accident…"

"Now, now, Ryker…you always go for the nuclear option," Johann chided him, watching the billionaire talking to Atali and Mindy, who were clearly flirting with him. "There is much value to be gained from Mr Fury-both economically and politically. He poses a challenge…but I am sure we are all up to the task."

"And the fact that he flies everywhere in that damned chopper makes it much harder to facilitate an accident that actually looks like an accident," Eret pointed out.

"So we stop acting like idiots and start thinking with our brains," Johann said firmly. "Eret-our guest seems to appreciate your wife-certainly more than those rather obvious gold-diggers, if I am reading his body language correctly. Perhaps you could get her to talk to him. Maybe let her obvious charms draw him in…since clearly our initial overtures haven't worked."

"I haven't spoken to him yet," Eret added smugly. Johann rolled his eyes.

"He is unlikely to invest in your dubious ventures if he has any business sense," Ryker sneered. "Any money sunk in any of your businesses is always gone for good."

"All I need is the proper investment at the proper time…and expanding the freight and elite passenger business will reverse my fortunes," Eret told him smugly. "And Mr Fury will be the key to that. All I need is to persuade him that I am the answer to all his prayers."

"Only if he was praying for large investment losses and a business partner who had the acumen of a rock and fritters away money like water," Ryker scoffed.

"Bide your time," Johann told him. "Let him mingle with the hoi polloi and put up with the insensitive, blunt and stupid Berkian sheep. Then you can deploy your beautiful wife to soften him up and then make your move, Eret. By then, he may have lowered his defences a little and maybe be more receptive." Eret snapped his fingers and a server brought him another tumbler of whiskey.

"I'll do as you say," he said thoughtfully. "In the meantime, I need to speak to you about the Casino…"

oOo

Hiccup had finally managed to get away from the crowd of interested fellow guests who all wanted to ask him the same selection of Berkian questions:

_Is Tallon Fury your real name?_

_Where did you come from?_

_Are you married?_

_Do you want to be?_

_Are you interested in investing in Berk? Because I know this great little business/concern/idea…_

He sighed. A Berkian born and bred, he was very familiar with his blunt and oblivious people and he had anticipated what they would want to know. It wasn't a surprise, really-because everywhere he went, it was the same interrogation. As a billionaire with no history and a mysterious past was fascinating to everyone he encountered and his carefully constructed persona was a good shield for a man who was certainly a fugitive from prison and a condemned traitor. And who was plotting revenge on those who had wronged him so badly. He walked across the hallway and sought sanctuary in a quiet gloomy corridor that headed towards the kitchens, the shadows allowing him to take a moment to regain his breath and decide what to do next.

And then he peered into the gloom. The walls were in shadows and clearly not meant for the view of the visitors to this sumptuous and vainglorious house-but there were pictures here, hung neatly and carefully and free of dust or grime. He peered at the first-and back-pedalled, his eyes widening at the shape staring back at him with a grin.

It was his father, Mayor Stoick Haddock.

Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to take a step closer, he stared at an image of his father, grinning happily at the camera with his arms draped round the shapes of eighteen year old Hiccup and eighteen year old Astrid, both smiling back at the camera. It was from a professional shoot that Stoick had bought for them as a present for Hiccup's eighteenth. Hiccup had insisted on the image of them all together and it was one he treasured the most. Breath hitching, he reached out and gently stroked the image of his father as he always recalled him-smiling and full of life.

"Dad," he breathed, his eyes prickling with unshed tears. "I'm sorry." Mastering himself, he withdrew his hand and turned to the adjacent image, another image from the shoot in a matching gold frame, showing himself and Astrid in loving embrace. He was sitting with Astrid resting back against him, his arms wrapped around her slender shape. Both looked delighted and in love.

Next to it was a slightly yellowed paper, carefully framed. It was a simple pencil drawing of Astrid that Hiccup had done maybe a year before he had been arrested, the image simple but highlighting Astrid's smile and the twinkle in her eyes. Hiccup recalled it had taken him ages to get the complexities of her braid right but he had persevered and he knew that Astrid had been delighted with the picture. And next to it was an image he didn't know, a picture in oil pastels of Astrid and a slightly younger Fink, laughing at the watcher. Realising that it was drawn from a photograph, Hiccup leaned closer, seeing exceptional talent in capturing the beautiful detail. It was fully the equal of his own effort and he wondered who had done the drawing-because whoever it was, they had immense talent.

"What are you doing here?"

He spun round-to face the scowling face of Astrid.


	19. Friends and Family

**Nineteen: Friends and Family**

Facing Astrid in the confined space had Hiccup's pulse accelerating, seeing the glitter in her beautiful blue eyes and the spirited plant of her fists on his hip. She looked so much like the woman he had known that he had to remind himself that she had married Eret a few days after he had been declared dead, that she had thrown her lot in with the man who had framed him without hesitation. He shrugged.

"I needed a moment away from the constant interrogation," he told her honestly. "Not used to crowds."

"And yet you put yourself out here," she told him bluntly. "You didn't have to announce you had moved here."

 _That's the Astrid I know,_ he thought, inspecting her face. _Go straight for the kill._

"That is true," he admitted. "But with the mandatory publication of property ownership in First Minister Grimborn's latest bill, my secret would have been out soon enough. I just chose to control the release of information." He gestured to the walls. "I take it these aren't meant for public consumption?"

"No one ever comes here," she explained, her voice calmer.

"So why hang them at all?" he asked. She walked to the image of younger Astrid and Hiccup and stared, her eyes unfocussing.

"Because my husband won't permit me to hang them in any room he uses," she conceded reluctantly. He frowned.

"Why?" he asked and then looked at the image of the woman with his younger self. "Old boyfriend?"

"My first love," she admitted softly.

"You dumped him for Eret-or did he dump you?" he asked callously. Her head snapped round angrily and her fists bunched.

"Neither," she breathed, visibly controlling her temper. Then just as suddenly as her anger flared, it was gone, leaving her looking unutterably sad. "He was the kindest, sweetest most decent person I ever knew-and he was wrongfully convicted and sent to prison. His father and I were working on his appeal, contacting everyone we could…but while we were still working, we heard he had committed suicide. It just got too much for him…and I felt my heart had been ripped out. I keep these because they are all I have left of him…" And her thumb unconsciously rubbed the back of the little silver ring.

"And that," he said, realising that it was the little Promise ring he had given her at Graduation.

"It never leaves my hand," she sighed. "Eret hates that as well. But Hi…my boyfriend…was my best friend as well. We had been friends most of my life. And I wish he had written that he was feeling like that..because I would have found a way to smuggle myself to Jotunheim to see him, no matter if I ended up in prison for doing it."

"I can see why your husband wouldn't want to compete with a dead man," he commented, sipping the last of his champagne. "A dead man can never make a mistake or sully his memory…which grows more and more glowing as time passes…while the living never fail to disappoint."

"You sound as if you speak from experience," Astrid noted and he gave a fake smile.

"I've had my share of disappointments," he revealed calmly. "But I have learned to live with the fact." She wrapped her arms around her body, staring at the image of the couple in the embrace.

"So have I,' she breathed but he walked to the last picture.

"This intrigues me," he said evenly. "It's very good. That's you and your son?" She nodded.

"Fink," she murmured.

"Odd name," he commented. She looked up with an arched brow.

"This is Berk, a land of ridiculous names and even worse traditions," she commented. "Mr Fury." He chuckled.

"Touche," he acknowledged. "But this is seriously good work."

"My daughter did it," Astrid said.

"Zephyr?"

"I only have the one," Astrid commented tartly then raised her hand in apology. "Sorry. I think you may have caught me on a bad day. Yes, Zephyr. She's a really talented artist and already has scholarship offers from Archipelago University and University of the Arts, London. And I think my husband is determined that she isn't going to be allowed to go to either. He wants her here, under his thumb and is doing everything he can to keep her doubting what an amazing and talented young woman she is." Hiccup frowned.

"That doesn't sound very…responsible," he noted as she frowned.

"No, I guess it doesn't," she murmured. "But regrettably, my husband does many things that are neither responsible nor honourable. I…"

"So this is where you're hiding, wife," Eret said, walking up and gripping Astrid by the shoulder, the grip clearly painfully tight. "And talking to our honoured guest, no less." The tone was edgy, his eyes already hazed with alcohol and Hiccup realised the man was drunk and jealous, despite his own investigations detailing how many women he had betrayed Astrid with. His eyes narrowed as he saw the display. "I thought I ordered you not to hang that rubbish anywhere I could see it!"

"You don't see it, Eret," she replied coldly. "You never come this way to the kitchens and the scullery. This is my area-and I think after seventeen years of marriage that I am owed a few square feet of wall space to hang the only four pictures I own." She flinched as he tightened the grip.

"We'll talk about this later," he promised and then gave a fake smile. "Where's my son?"

"I don't know." Astrid told him tightly.

"Did you tell him I ordered him to be here?" he demanded coldly.

"Oh yes-I would never dream of disobeying one of your orders, husband," Astrid replied coolly. "But whether Fink decides to obey is a different matter."

"His name is ERET!" he snarled.

"You're the only person who calls him that," she retorted.

"He is MY son and I will call him what I want," he growled. "Find him." Then he turned to the billionaire. "I apologise, Fury. The problems of a wife and brats. You know what I mean?"

"Not really," Hiccup replied calmly. "The girl I loved left me many years ago."

"Bet she's kicking herself now," Eret chuckled smugly but Hiccup shook her head.

"I doubt she cares," he commented. Then he smiled brightly. "I gather you wanted to speak to me?"

"Not much gets past you," the bigger man commented, wrapping his arm indiscreetly around Hiccup's shoulders once more. "Why you're such a successful businessman-rather like myself. I mean, I am the owner of the Berk 'Asgard' Casino, Night Fury Transport and a number of other business ventures. And I am always looking out for a new opportunity…and recently, I have been moving into small inter-island transport and passenger runs. And I am looking for aircraft to service my needs."

"Listening so far," Hiccup admitted as he was steered away, filching another glass of champagne from a server. Eret gestured to the magnificent reception room.

"As you can see, I'm pretty successful," he announced brashly. "I'm on the Island Council so if you need the ear of the First Minister, I am the man!"

 _Or maybe his brother…or perhaps the man himself,_ Hiccup thought sarcastically.

"I can see the benefits," he commented aloud. "So what are you proposing, Eretson?" The man grinned.

"I run an air freight and passenger business and you make airplanes," he said without any preamble. "I believe there is a deal to be made there." Hiccup's brows dipped slightly, his eyes inspecting the man facing him. Slightly hazed with alcohol, his inhibitions lowered, Eret was hoping that he could just acquire millions of dollars worth of brand new aircraft on what? The shake of a hand? And no doubt 'Fury' would never see them again as the man ducked and avoided any payment.

"Indeed there is," he forced himself to say, quashing the desire to punch the man into face…or do something more lethal. There were glasses and knives around here and it would be so easy to end the man's life…but that would be too easy and far, far too kind. Instead, Hiccup felt his hatred crystallise into an implacable desire to take everything from him and leave him to the same desolation and fate that Hiccup himself had faced.

"So what you say?" Eret grinned. "Maybe a couple of your new island hopper aircraft? They look pretty nice and word is they are the most efficient on the market. Should save me a fortune on fuel costs…"

 _Assuming you pay for that as well,_ Hiccup thought darkly but he sipped his champagne as they walked out the front door and into the cool evening, under the brilliant floodlights. The scents of the spring flowers, of early honeysuckle and apple blossom, were light on the breeze as the gravel crunched underfoot.

"I love this time of year," Eret continued. "The Spring always seems filled with promise, of new life and new opportunities…"

"It's certainly a very pleasant time of year," Hiccup agreed, matching the man for pace. Eret paused at the flower bed and glanced down the slope, looking at the gap where the Haddock ancestral home had been razed.

"So what do you say?" he asked as Hiccup inspected him.

"To what?"

"Loaning me a couple of aircraft," Eret said brashly. "The small ones."

"NF-100s," Hiccup corrected him automatically. "And no." Eret paused and glared at him.

"No?" he asked more sharply. Hiccup shook his head, conscious that Snotlout was maintaining station in case the man tried anything inappropriate.

"I'm afraid I cannot loan you any aircraft," he said. "You can buy them…on favourable terms." Eret paused…and then gave a broad grin.

"Of course," he said cheerfully. "You can't blame a man for trying…" Hiccup forced himself to smile slightly.

"No," he said non-committally. "But I haven't built up a several billion dollar business by giving tens of millions of dollars of aircraft away to a man I barely know and have met only twice. I'll have my lawyers draw up a quick contract…nothing messy…just terms and conditions. You can sign on delivery." Eret offered him his hand again and Hiccup shook it firmly.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he grinned as the roar of a motorcycle closed and Fink pulled his bike up in front of the main doors, killing the engine and pulling his helmet off. From his vantage point, Hiccup could see the widening of the young man's green eyes and a sudden pained look cross his face as he realised what day it was.

"ERET!" the black-haired man yelled and Fink flinched. Of all the people he could have met first when he arrived clearly very late, his father was completely at the bottom of the list. Hiccup turned to watch the man storm towards the teen on the motorbike, seeing Snotlout stand back and watch as well. Fink kicked down the stand and dismounted, trying to face Eret. The difference between the lad's slender build, even in his black biking leathers, and his buff and powerful father was stark, reminding Hiccup of his own physical difference from his father. Yet Hiccup had never been in fear of his father as Fink clearly was, though the lad lifted his chin and faced his father bravely.

"Hey, Dad," Fink said as Eret stopped mere feet from him.

"Did you not get my message from your mother that you were to be here on time, dressed and ready and were not to embarrass me again?" Eret snarled at him and Hiccup drifted a pace or two closer, watching the fear flash through the boy's emerald eyes.

"Yeah, Mom may have said something…but I was out and forgot the time," Fink said with forced casualness. With blinding swiftness, Eret backhanded the boy, the blow slamming him to the floor and he looked up, a livid welt on his cheek.

"I warned you what would happen," Eret growled but Fink scrambled up, his eyes wide.

"And how will it look if your son, the island champion, isn't taking part because his father is pissed because he stayed out practising?" he asked, flinching as Eret raised his arm again.

"Get that put away, get inside and get changed!" Eret snapped. "We'll talk later. I expect you downstairs in ten minutes or you know what will happen!" Fink nodded and grabbed the handlebars, then urgently began to push the bike off round the house while his father watched, breathing furiously before he stormed into the house. Frowning at the scene, Hiccup drifted over towards Snotlout, who was trying not to look concerned.

"Enlightening, eh?" the billionaire murmured as his cousin sighed.

"If he hadn't been the lad's father, I would have punched his lights out," Snotlout murmured.

"And if you hadn't, I would," Hiccup agreed, staring after the vanished boy. "He and the boy really have a bad relationship-to the extent where he dropped his facade and went after him in preference to maintaining his illusion."

"Ah well-he had got what he wanted off you, hadn't he?" Snot guessed as Hiccup gave a small smile.

"He wanted me to loan him some brand new aircraft that I would never see again and never get a penny for," he chuckled. "So I offered the sell them to him…at a competitive price." Snotlout shuffled his feet.

"How much of his soul precisely are you asking for?" he asked with a grin. Sipping his drink, Hiccup chuckled.

"None-but I'll make sure Fish and lawyers put enough small print in there that he'll never read," he said. "You okay?" Snot nodded.

"This is quite fun," he admitted. "No one pays me any mind and I can listen to a host of conversations. And everyone is talking about you. The women think you're hot and the men are jealous and out for all they can get. And everyone wonders why you wear the shades. The top pick is that you are hideously disfigured."

"Thanks," Hiccup said sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Though the ladies think it makes you look mysterious and sexy," Snotlout teased him and Hiccup face-palmed.

"And my day just keeps getting better and better," he dead-panned. Then he sighed. "I better go back in. Seriously, are you okay?" Loyally, Snotlout nodded.

"My feet are aching a bit but I wouldn't trust anyone else with this gig," he confessed. "Now in you go, _sir_." Chuckling, Hiccup walked back in with his cousin at his shoulder, immediately being greeted by the effusive Atali, who handed him a Kir Royale and launched into a concerted effort to seduce him which was wholly unsuccessful. Forcing himself to concentrate on the woman and not look at Snotlout, whose slight grin would have caused him to burst out laughing, Hiccup still saw the shape of Fink speed down the staircase, his blond hair still tussled and the welt obvious on his cheek. Dressed in a slim-fit back suit with a simple white shirt, he looked smart but wary, seeking out his sister and leaning close to murmur a few words in her ear. Even from the distance of halfway across the room, Hiccup could read the concern in her eyes and worry at her brother's injury, but he saw Fink smile and nod reassuringly.

The conversation was terminated by the reverberation of a gong, struck by two servers dressed charmingly in mock French 17th century garb, the powdered wigs and embroidered pantaloon suits ridiculously incongruous. Hiccup walked amid the crowd and found himself-as expected-seated near the top of the table, opposite Astrid and with Zephyr and Ryker on either side. Eret glared at his wife and leaned close to her as he walked past to the head of the table.

"I thought you were supposed to sit by Fury," he growled but Astrid looked up coldly.

"You had placed Zephyr next to Johann and I don't like the way he's interested in her, Eret," she said coolly. Eret chuckled.

"He's a rich and powerful man," he told her.

"She's not even seventeen and she finds him creepy," she told her husband simply, uncaring that the man in question was seated at her side.

"He's a good match," Eret insisted. Astrid's eyes narrowed.

"You can alter the seatings while we're all seated, Eret, though you know it will look incredibly obvious and violates etiquette," she told him sharply and he subsided. Hiccup glanced over at Johann, reading irritation in the man's eyes though his facial expression was one of a fake benign smile. Disturbed at the subtext, Hiccup leaned towards the young woman, who was blushing.

"So we meet again, Miss Eretson," he said in a low voice. She nodded, her eyes flicking over to inspect him nervously.

"Please, call me Zephyr," she said quietly.

"Only if you call me Tallon," he replied with a smile. Her blue eyes flicked up guiltily.

"Oh, I am sure I couldn't," she said softly. "I mean, you are a rich man and very powerful and you couldn't want someone as worthless as me insulting you by…" He frowned and she looked worried. "Sir?"

"Zephyr-I asked you to use my name because you offered me the same courtesy," he told her firmly. "Now, I am not offering that right to everyone-just you. Because you seem to be a polite and beautiful young lady who seems unduly lacking in confidence." She looked down at her place setting and fiddled with her fingers in her lap.

"Well, my father always tells me that I'm not really worth much attention," she told him. "I mean, he sneers that I do art, that I can't really cook and that I am dying to get off of Berk…"

"Well, I'm with you on some of those," he told her honestly. "I saw your drawing in the kitchen corridor. It's good. You have real talent." She looked up guiltily. "I draw as well so I can recognise talent. Your use of oil pastels is really impressive because blending them to get the correct tones is very tricky. And the likenesses are excellent." She gave a small, tentative smile.

"Mom's hair is tricky," she admitted. "She does some complicated braiding thing that I just can't get. And Finky has this weird hair thing as well…" Hiccup chuckled. "And I'm left handed so Dad says that makes my writing and drawing clumsy as well…"

"Well, I'm left handed as well so I obviously don't agree," he told her. "I designed my aircraft myself and the fact they're selling like hot cakes means that something went right. And Leonardo Da Vinci, one of the most famous artists and inventors in history was left handed as well." Her eyes widened.

"Really?"

"They're pretty certain due to the angle of shading on his drawings and the way his writing slants," he explained. A grin covered her face then.

"Thanks," she said. "And he always goes on about my hair as well…" He frowned.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked. "It's a nice auburn-and done beautifully."

"It's red…and Dad says I have to be a throwback-or genetic aberration…" Her voice almost completely lacked confidence but he leaned closer.

"Mine was similar when I was younger-maybe a bit lighter when I was a younger teen-but it did darken as I got older," he admitted. "And yes, I spent most of my school years being teased for being a redhead. It's the one protected characteristic that no one cares about." Her eyes widened.

"I thought your hair was brown…" And then her blue eyes narrowed, her nose crinkling just as her mother's did when she was concentrating. "But in the light, you can see the red and auburn tones. It's nice."

"Your colouring is unusual, Zephyr-and you are a pretty young woman," he told her. "Never doubt that and don't let anyone tell you any different." Her smile lit her face then and he felt a small warm glow at helping the young woman's confidence.

"Thank you," she said again as he leaned closer, checking no one was listening.

"Do you mind if I ask a question then?" he asked and she nodded. "Why Zephyr?" She shrugged.

"It was Mom," she admitted. "I mean, Dad didn't care when I was born-he just wanted a son. So Mom named me. I think she said Zephyr was after the west wind, which was the wind from where her friend had gone." She shrugged. "I mean, I got off lucky. Fink's real name is Eret Nuffink Hiccup Eretson. I mean how much worse could it be?" Hiccup chuckled.

"That is pretty bad," he admitted.

"And he hates Dad so he never uses Eret," Zephyr revealed. "He always uses Nuffink…well, Fink or Finky."

"So which of you is older?" Hiccup asked casually as bread rolls were served. Zephyr sighed.

"I am," she admitted.

"How much?" he asked and she shook her head.

"Three minutes," she admitted. His eyes widened behind his shades. "We're twins. Mom had complications so we ended up needing an emergency C-section early. She's never had any more children. She loves us both dearly but Dad…well, he only has any interest in Fink because he's Eret Eretson Junior…but Fink hates him because he tries to control Fink." She looked over at her brother, talking politely to Mindy with the welt obvious on his cheek. "I think he defies Dad because it keeps Dad from bothering me or Mom. And he does want his freedom and does his best to try to grasp it. It only makes Dad more mad." Then she sighed. "I'm sorry-I'm making him sound like a monster. He just has different priorities to us. He values business and his friends and allies over his family-that's all."

 _And that's pretty twisted,_ Hiccup thought privately watching the young woman butter her roll and smile at the server who brought her the plate with langoustine and avocado salad. _But then I know that Eret's priorities don't include friends anywhere in them._

"So why does your mother wants to keep you away from Minister Trayder?' he asked in a low voice as she blanched.

"I guess she thinks it's not healthy for a man in his fifties to want to spend time with a sixteen year old," she mumbled, poking an avocado.

"And you? What do you think?" he probed gently. Her eyes glittered.

"I find him creepy," she said in a very low voice. "He watches me all the time we are in the same room-and then I feel like I need to have a shower. I know he has mentioned to Dad more than once that he is looking for a wife…and there is no way on Midgard I am marrying him. But I do worry because I know he's been Dad's business partner for years and Mom also knows that Dad owes him a huge amount of money. I think she's worried Dad may use me to pay off his debts."

"That is monstrous," he murmured, his gaze trailing over to the men, seeing Eret leaning close to Johann and whispering furiously. "Maybe he just really likes you?" Her eyes widened and then she shook her head.

"Mom told me that he started talking to Dad about it three years ago-when I was thirteen…" Zephyr murmured as she rested her knife and fork neatly together on her plate. "I've never really talked to him other than the usual politeness you say to a friend of your father's before you ask to be excused. It's not real and it's not healthy." Hiccup finished his salad and glanced over at the Minister.

 _He's also a man who owns the most brutal and cruel whorehouse in the North,_ he thought as his eyes trailed over the young woman. _And this is very much the sort of thing that Heather told me: that he befriended her and said he wanted a relationship. But when he persuaded her to come out with him…she never went home. Kidnapped to Betsy's, she was abused until she stopped fighting…and then they put her to work…_ His eyes narrowed behind the shades. _Until I found her._

"I'm sorry," Zephyr apologised. "I think I'm ruining the atmosphere…"

"It's not down to you, Zephyr," he said evenly. "But the fault is mine for I asked the question." Then he smiled again. "So tell me-what does a young person do in Berk?"

As she smiled and began to talk, he kept half an ear on Ryker, Eret and Johann, filing away the quiet conversation for future reference. Leaning slightly towards the young woman, he still asked a few relevant questions as she explained what she enjoyed doing and he found himself smiling at her enthusiasm for her home…just as he had been when he was younger. But at the moment, she didn't have a boyfriend, though she revealed that Fink did have a girlfriend, though Eret didn't know. And Zephyr had a role in helping the young couple spend time together, inviting the girl over as 'her' friend…and then covering for her twin to spend time with the girl. And he was struck by the generosity of the girl in helping her brother…similar to the way Ruff and Tuff always had each other's back. As an only child, Hiccup had no practical experience but he respected his friends and found himself rooting for Eret's children against the man who had betrayed him. And the kernel of a plan began to form.

Then he looked up and found Astrid staring at him, her blue eyes guarded and concerned. Realising her concerns for her daughter and unable to obviously reassure her, her offered a small nod which she met with a stony stare. It was clear that Astrid was fiercely protective of her daughter and though Hiccup meant the girl no harm, the same couldn't be said about his intentions for Zephyr's parents. But for now, he needed to befriend them and not appearing threatening to Zephyr was key to that. However, he found himself liking the young woman's kind nature and admiring her artistic talent. And as he gently encouraged her to talk, she emerged a little from her shell to reveal a girl with sharp observation and a dry sense of humour. Unwillingly, he also realised he was taking a little about himself to her, sharing his reminiscences of painting and drawing when he was younger, though he mentally edited the stories to remove any references that could betray his identity. And he found himself pulling out a biro and swiftly sketching on the back of a napkin, swiftly producing a very good picture of Zephyr. And the girl's eyes widened in surprise and delight, her face lighting with a smile. He finished shading the slight dimple in her cheek and then presented the picture to her.

"For you, Miss Zephyr," he said with a small smile. "Sorry-I am rather out of practice…" But she clasped the napkin reverently and her face was brilliant with her smile.

"It's perfect," she said in delight. "Thank you so much, Mr Fury…" He inclined his head. "Tallon?" He nodded.

"Better," he murmured. Then he sat back and sipped his wine. For now, he had everyone where he wanted them-and plenty of ammunition for the next stage of his plan. The work would begin in the morning.


	20. Fallout

**Twenty: Fallout**

"Hey, Ingen-how's your head?" Ruffnut asked for the fifth time, her tone loud and deliberate. Wincing and wearing his sunglasses inside the house even when he didn't need to maintain his disguise. Hiccup reached for his tomato juice and swallowed a couple of anti-inflammatories and a handful of multivitamins.

"Just as about to explode as it was thirty seconds ago when you last asked," he said in a pained voice.

"Really-that is so awesome!" Tuff added loudly, chewing his toast. Hiccup grimaced.

"Just how awesome is it that I am severely hung over and all my friends are being extra loud?" he asked sarcastically. Fishlegs munched his muesli loudly and Hiccup flinched.

"Well, it is breakfast and you know the twins are pathologically incapable of being quiet," he pointed out, chewing. Hiccup rested his head on the table.

"You could try," he moaned. Heather sat next to him and chewed her muesli as loudly as she could, grinning this distress.

"Maybe, if you had let us come with you, you wouldn't be in such a state," she suggested but he raised his head and pulled his glasses off, his bloodshot eyes serious.

"And you all know why you couldn't," he said firmly. "I needed to be there alone, so I could talk to everyone and they would open up to me. And I couldn't do that with a PA or various 'staff members' in tow." There were various snorts and scoffs but Heather gave a small nod. Hiccup had actually asked if she wanted to go, knowing the answer from the look in her eyes from too many such parties as a woman with no choice where she went or who she went with.

"And yet you still didn't take us to the party," Ruff pointed out. "Only Snot got to go."

"Yeah, I had a great time," Snotlout added sarcastically. "My feet still hurt, most people ignored me and no one thought to offer me a drink or anything to eat…" Hiccup cleared his throat and glared. "Well, except Ingen…who brought me a plate of food and a drink and let me sit down while I ate as he stood guard over me. Mind you, I think you were drunk then."

"Very," Hiccup admitted. "I'm a lightweight with alcohol-always have been, always will be. But 'Tallon Fury' would enjoy the finer things in life and having a glass in hand works as a useful prop."

"Did you get to talk to everyone you wanted?" Fishlegs asked, laying down his bowl and scraping butter across his toasted crusty bread. Hiccup whimpered.

"Possibly," he groaned, resting his head down on the table again. "Ryker was difficult-he's not really the main man, just a fixer and muscle. Though his lever will be his family and locating where the bodies are." He swallowed. "Johann is cunning. He gives nothing away but he is clearly in contact with Drago Bludvist. He has an unhealthy interest in Eret's daughter Zephyr, who is only sixteen. She's a fascinating young woman, lots of talent and lacking in confidence. Johann is exposed through what he has loaned Eret and the connections to the traitor."

"I'll get look further into Johann's banking records," Fishlegs murmured.

"I doubt he'll make it that easy," Heather commented.

"Eret is the most intriguing," Hiccup said, sipping his tomato juice. "As expected, he tried to get a loan of some aircraft."

"So he expects you to lend him tens of millions of dollars of aircraft when you have just met him once?" Tuff asked incredulously.

"And when it's obvious he's a pretty bad risk?" Ruff added.

"Astonishingly, yes," Hiccup told them dryly. "And he looked pissed when I said no. Glad Snot was there." The man in question looked up over his ham and eggs and nodded.

"He looked pretty ugly," he confirmed. "I thought I would have to step in."

"The man is definitely used to getting his own way," Hiccup confirmed. "So when I said I would sell them to him for favourable terms, he looked like he'd won the lottery." Fishlegs chuckled.

"What terms?" he asked, pulling out his phone and thumbing in a list of the tasks he had to complete. Giving a wry smile, Hiccup grabbed some toast and smeared marmalade over the crispy surface.

"The toughest you can imagine," he said. "I mean, he wants forty million dollars' worth of aircraft-so the penalties will need to recoup twice that much and legally ensure that we are the primary creditor, ahead of all others and beyond contest. And you and the other lawyers will need to specify every different type of asset he possesses, including his offshore accounts, bonds, college funds, houses, casinos, Night Fury Transport and any other business he has ever been associated with. The fine print needs to be especially fine! And he needs to sign it without reading or checking with his lawyers so that he is ours. And when he defaults, I want absolutely everything-including all of his private assets and everything his family and dependents own."

The others stared at him in surprise. There was an unfamiliar merciless edge to Hiccup's pleasant voice that almost none of them had heard.

"Seems pretty harsh," Tuff commented, voicing everyone's thoughts. But Hiccup frowned, his emerald eyes glittered with anger at the memory of that cold day in Berk when he returned and of the sad makeshift bed in Gothi's hovel where his father-defeated and impoverished, blind and broken-had died in penury.

"Eret and his allies lied and stole everything from my father and left him to die in the gutter," he said quietly. "They framed me for their crimes and left me to die in the hell that is Jotunheim. If I leave them their lives, I'm probably being too generous." There was a pause and the group all shared looks-before Snot swallowed his latest mouthful.

"Fine with me," he said. "But what about Viggo?" Hiccup sighed.

"He didn't attend the dinner-apparently 'something' came up, according to what I overheard," he explained. "I couldn't ask what but I have to assume it was something related to his job as First Minister. But we need to entrap him as well." Then he paused. "I already know how to ruin him. Fish-check his residency status when he was elected to the post of First Minister. I think he was ineligible at the time…and so we have to use that as our lever to dig through everything he has ever done." Looking uncomfortable, Fishlegs looked self-conscious.

"Are you sure?" he asked as Hiccup nodded wearily.

"He pretended to be an officer of the law," he said heavily. "He lied when he said there was nothing to worry about when I was put on trial. He then directed the judge and jury to charge me with a much more severe offence, refused to engage with my Dad when he was trying to appeal-as was my right-and all the way through he has used my downfall as proof that he is the only person suited to rule Berk. But he isn't. So we use the law against him to take everything he cares for…" Blowing out his cheeks, Snotlout stared at him.

"When you put it like that, cuz, he's got it coming," he commented. Heather reached out and took his hand.

"We're all here for you," she assured him as he forced a wan smile onto his pale face.

"One more thing," he said. "I want to set up an art competition. For the High School kids of Berk. Closing date in three months. Because I think his daughter will win…and it will give me a way to give her a chance to get away from him." Ruff's eyes widened.

"And what did she do to earn your compassion?" she asked as Hiccup crammed his sunglasses back on.

"She reminds me of me," he said. "And because Johann is a monster and no one should be at risk of being traded to him. I want to give her another option." Then he smiled thinly. "And it will be another thing that Eret can't control." Snotlout looked over at his cousin, slowly rising to his feet.

"And Astrid?" he asked as Hiccup's shoulders tightened.

"Unhappily married," he condemned, turning away. "She's made her bed. Now she can lie in it."

oOo

After a shower and an online conference with the Chief Engineer of Dragon's Edge Engineering to check in on his own business, Hiccup went for a run. Since he had escaped from Jotunheim and especially since he and his friends had left Berk, he had done everything he could not to feel enclosed and penned in. So he had taken up running again, working hard the regain his strength and fitness and he had a couple of special prosthetics to enable him to run as well as he could before he had lost his leg. Of course, money was now no object so the leg he wore when he ran was the best that money could buy, ensuring that no one suspected his disability.

The paths around Raven Point were challenging, up and down, winding through the woods, along the cliffs and round by the Cove where Toothless had sheltered for so long. Wearing long jogging pants and his sunglasses-in case he ran into anyone-he paced himself and though he was feeling rough, he found the exercise cleared his head and allowed him to think once more. And then he felt ashamed at what he had said in the morning-because, though he was bitter and filled with rage and hatred for those who had harmed him, he had met Zephyr and Fink and neither deserved to be harmed by his revenge. In fact, he found himself feeling protective towards both young people. Zephyr reminded him of himself when he was younger, bullied and lacking confidence but possessing some serious artistic talent. While Fink seemed to have a terrible relationship with his father and was the kind of bright, spunky lad Hiccup had been once he had Astrid on his side.

He shook his head. Their parents were both culpable and would have to pay-Eret most of all, though Astrid's betrayal had wounded Hiccup's heart worse. But he made a silent vow that no matter how harshly he dealt with those who had wronged him, he would protect the children and ensure they had a chance to do what they wanted in life. Too many lives had been ruined by Eret, Viggo, Ryker and Johann: he would only repay those actually culpable.

As he pounded round the Cove, heading back towards the house, he heard the unmistakeable buzz of Fink's bike and a small smile lifted his lips as he headed back up the slope. His heart was pounding and his breaths were hard work but he found himself feeling a small satisfaction that the young man could come and utilise the woods Hiccup had loved as a boy to practice. As he glanced to his right, he saw the dark shape, slewing through the trees and jumping a gulley and he slowed down in admiration. The boy was good and he made a mental note to ensure that he attended the race. It would be a good opportunity to observe Eret and Astrid and he was hoping the young man could be victorious. And then he headed back to the house, already planning his next move.

oOo

"He's supposed to call in at the house before he goes round the woods," Snotlout grumbled, peering at the security cameras. Walking in nursing a large mug of black coffee, Hiccup frowned.

"Fink?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder. Snotlout nodded.

"Last three days, he's headed straight for the woods and done some crazy stuff," he explained. "I thought we made it clear that he had to check in so we knew to make sure he was okay." Hiccup chuckled.

"And you never disobeyed an order from adults when you were a teen?" he asked dryly, a small smile quirking his lips.

"No. Yes. Shut up, Hiccup," Snotlout grumbled as the billionaire chuckled. "I worry about that kid. He was fine and always obeyed-it's just since the party." Hiccup drained his mug then rested it on the table.

"You're worried about him?" he asked and Snotlout nodded.

"His father hit him pretty hard," he said, frowning. "And I saw his eyes-you did too. He was scared. It wasn't the first time he's been struck by any means. And for Eret to do it so publicly means for him, it's a normal action." Folding his arms, Hiccup stared at the screen.

"It just keeps getting better and better," he murmured as his cousin looked up. "Don't look at me like that, Snot. I'm not pleased that the lad is scared. Or that Zephyr and Astrid are probably at risk as well. It gives me one more point of attack." Snotlout turned his chair to face his cousin.

"I wish you'd drop this, Hicc," he said in a low voice. "It seems pretty vindictive and that isn't you." The auburn-haired man bit back his instinctive response and paused.

"I think…maybe you can't understand who I am unless you spent over ten years in a freezing cell in solitary," he said quietly.

"Except you had Gobber for company," Snotlout pointed out.

"After about seven years," Hiccup murmured, his eyes unfocussing. "I spent most of the rest of the time without any human contact. Except where I had to fight for my life. Oh and when…" And then he bit his lip and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. I had choices-either to surrender and wither away or hang on and hope. And to do that, you have to have something to cling to. And hoping your loved ones are okay really isn't enough. I clung to the desire to see those who had put me in that cell pay. It was all I had until Gobber tunnelled into my cell. And all those cold nights, all those hours curled up with my stomach aching with hunger…you have to make a promise to yourself that there will be payback." Snotlout puffed out his cheeks in surprise.

"Damn," he murmured. "Sorry, Hicc. It's easy to forget what happened when you're sitting here…" But instantly, Hiccup grasped his shoulder reassuringly.

"You shouldn't have to remember, Snot," he said honestly. "It was years ago and since then…well, we've been on a journey."

"Mainly through your brilliance," Snotlout admitted. "Thor, I feel such muttonhead at times…" But his cousin was smiling.

"You know, I actually find having you here is one of the best things," he admitted. "I mean, you are the only person who knows me. You are the only one who knows my name, who recalls Dad and…" He paused and sighed. "Who knew Hiccup before Jotunheim, before I lost everything. And having you here…well, you're my voice of reason. I trust you." Snotlout blinked and he looked shocked and touched, all at once.

"I mean…thanks…" he managed and sighed. "But I haven't been much help otherwise. You patented your designs as soon as we left Berk and then bought Dragon's Edge Engineering almost straight away with just a small fraction of the treasure. You made sure everyone got what they wanted. You made sure Dad was looked after. All your friends got what they wanted or needed. And when the first aircraft came out, when the first orders came in…I was _proud_ to be your cousin…"

"And you're not now?" Hiccup asked him quietly. Snotlout shook his head.

"Of course I still am," he said frowning as he struggled for the words to explain himself. "I will always be proud that my skinny little cousin turned out to be so smart and determined and brave and generous…but sometimes, this obsession of yours…it makes me wonder what Uncle Stoick would have said."

"I already know," Hiccup said in a hollow voice, turning away to stare out of the huge window that formed the exterior wall. His eyes slid over the patio where the twins were barbecuing a late brunch-though he wasn't sure that the combination of bacon, aubergine, banana, egg and pineapple would make any recognisable-or edible-dish. "He'd say- _Son. A man must stand up for what he believes and what is right. Never start a fight but always end it. And remember that there are always other victims who may have no voice_." Snotlout frowned. "If they did this to me, they would have done it to others. Viggo doesn't care about the law or the truth. He just wants to remove any enemy and bolster his reputation. His brother is definitely in league with Drago Bludvist-as is Johann Trayder-that much is very plain, Johann recruited Eret to deliver his contraband to Drago-and they have continued to arrangement to this day. Eret has profited from treason and perversion of justice. And Astrid chose him, married him and supported his rise in Berk society. In fact, she is far more respected than he is. But between them, Viggo, Ryker and Eret rule Berk and profit from her at every opportunity-while poverty rises and homeless shelters are bursting with those who have lost everything to Viggo's 'justice' and corruption."

"Uncle Stoick wouldn't have stood for this," Snotlout agreed.

"And no matter what happened, I am his son," Hiccup murmured. "Berk is my home. And I will not leave these traitors to ruin it further." Snotlout sat back and folded his arms.

"It's pretty hard out there," he admitted. "Dad keeps me in touch. I did invite him up here but he's happier down by the yard with the dogs. And he's grateful for the catering contract you organised. At least I know he's eating something healthy…"

"Large hunks of meat and mead," Hiccup told him as Snotlout grinned.

"Proper Berk fare," he agreed and both men laughed, recalling family barbecues.

" _It's not a proper cook-out if there isn't half a sheep on the grill, son,_ " Hiccup quoted, his voice thickening with his father's broad Berkian accent.

"You know that's uncanny," Snotlout told him, still grinning. "I can never do my Dad but you sound just like yours…" Hiccup shrugged self-consciously.

"Well, I had some practice when I was younger, what with him being _sooooo_ impressed at his fishbone of a son," he replied sarcastically and then he grinned, his eyes catching the shape zipping through the trees. "So maybe, I can relate to a kid whose father seems unreasonably hard on him." He grabbed his mug. "I'm off for a run, Snot. I'll have my phone with me in case you need to get hold of me." Snotlout shrugged.

"Things should be okay, cuz," he admitted and then he winced as the twins loaded a leg of lamb and a pineapple onto the gas grill. "Unless, of course, we all start dying of food poisoning…" Hiccup chuckled.

"They're not bad cooks, just a little…idiosyncratic…in their food combinations," he reminded his cousin. "Though their yak with plum and apple sauce is actually pretty moorish…"

"While the mackerel and custard was pretty rank," Snot called after him. "Take care, cuz!" Hiccup grinned.

"What could happen on a run round my own property?" he asked.


	21. Cove Conversation

**Twenty One: Cove Conversation**

It was a pleasant day, the breeze light and cool but it was a blessing as he pounded round the paths, hurdling roots and trying to keep an even pace. Even though he was running because he enjoyed running, his ears were pricked for the sounds of the bike but after a few echoes, there was nothing. So he did his usual circuit, weaving through the woods and down and up the little valleys before heading round to the Cove…and then he stopped, breathing hard as he saw a shape sitting in the cove, dressed in black biking leathers, his blond head bowed and looking dejected.

Hiccup frowned, recognising Fink and wondering what had happened. He had spent enough time himself in the Cove as a younger man, sitting there thinking or mulling over what had happened. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, the Cove had always been his go-to place and one reason why he would have purchased Raven Point, even if he hadn't hoped that Toothless was still safely stashed there. Without hesitating, he walked to the narrow entrance and clambered down, careful where he placed his prosthetic foot. He had learned to be careful because the lack of an ankle made him less stable on uneven surfaces and the entrance to the Cove was very tricky. In fact, he had fallen flat on his face when he clambered down for the first time after he completed the purchase of the land-to the unsympathetic roars of laughter of the twins.

He landed with a small flutter of relief, bending his knees as the mossy ground absorbed the sound to give only a soft thump. The young man visibly stiffened and his shoulders hunched, making Hiccup feel worse, but he straightened up and headed directly towards the young man. Walking with an even, casual step, he forced his expression to be neutral as he approached Fink and saw him turn slightly away from him.

"Hey," he tried, doing his best to recall what life was like when you were a teen. As an adult who had survived things that no one should have had to, who had done amazing and terrible things, who had traversed the depths of despair and the heights of exultation, it was a difficult ask but from what he knew and recalled, life was always so much more dramatic and binary as a teen. It was either amazing or a disaster, with almost nothing in between. Reverses were always much more severe, triumphs so much more pleasurable and life was much more immediate. Tomorrow was a long way away and next year was almost an unimaginable distance in the future. And adults didn't understand, knew nothing of value and tended to intrude where they weren't wanted, often thwarting what you wanted to do. Oh, and they went on about what happened when they were young, hundreds of years earlier which was completely irrelevant. He smiled slightly at the memory, recalling how he had rolled his own eyes at his father's stories of his own youth-and wishing he could hear them one more time.

Fink shrugged, his head still down. Hiccup walked closer, inspecting the young man. His helmet was resting on the mossy turf at his side, his blond hair tousled and messy, two crooked little braids poking out behind his right ear.

"Y'know, I always come here when I need to think," he said conversationally, seeing the boy refuse to raise his head. He quietly settled on another rock, close by the young man, swiping his face with his hand and calming his breathing. Unconsciously, he stretched out his left leg to prevent cramps.

"Yeah, it's nice," Fink mumbled.

"I mean, sometimes life is complicated and people are annoying so I sit here, listening to the birds and usually the twins trying to be quiet and watch me without me knowing about it," Hiccup continued. "Except, of course, they usually start arguing and they only do that at the tops of their voices." Moving his head slightly, Hiccup could see the young man peek out of the corner of his eye at the billionaire.

"Why do they watch you?" he asked quietly.

"Because they worry about me," Hiccup revealed calmly. "They're friends: that's what friends do. They look out for one another."

"Wouldn't know," Fink muttered. "Don't have anyone who doesn't want to use me, scrounge money off me or who bosses me around and ruins my life. Oh and who lies to me."

"What about Zephyr?" Hiccup asked evenly, seeing the young man's head snap up. He turned to face the older man and Hiccup forced his face to remain neutral. The welt he had seen Eret inflict on his son four days earlier had developed into a fine black bruise in the shape of a fist on his right cheek-but there were other bruises there, looking fresher and obvious on his face and neck. There was a small split in his lip and his bright green eyes looked deeply unhappy.

"She's the only one," he murmured. "But Dad will mess her life up-I'm sure he's already got the plans in place to sell her to the Minister…" Hiccup clasped his hands and leaned forward.

"What's happened?" he asked calmly. Fink shrugged.

"Dad and I had an argument," he confessed reluctantly. "Not that it's anything unusual…" Remaining silent, Hiccup saw the young man struggle and then he sighed. "Though it was a bit worse than usual…"

"Why?" The words was very quiet and Fink looked into his eyes, emerald meeting emerald.

"Because he's an ass," Fink said harshly as Hiccup chuckled.

"I think everyone can agree on that," he admitted. "What's he done?" Fink looked away and his hand rose unconsciously to touch the little braids-and then his shoulders slumped.

"He found out I had a girlfriend," he murmured. Hiccup watched, quietly as the boy finally turned back-and there was deep hurt in his wide green eyes. "Her name was Magdalena. Maggie."

"Was?" Fink frowned and gave a sigh.

"Zeph and I had tried to keep it a secret-she used to invite Maggie round as 'her' friend. Well, we're all in the same year of School so it all seems reasonable. But when she was here, she spent her time with me. She was funny and sassy and beautiful and made me feel like a million dollars. I felt like I was the luckiest guy in school…" Giving a small, nostalgic smile at the words that summed up his own feelings for Astrid when he had been at school, Hiccup nodded.

"She sounds perfect," he agreed, seeing Fink's face fall.

"Yeah-except her father was the owner of "Lars' Meats", the best butcher in Berk," he admitted. "A shopkeeper's daughter, not the millionaire father Dad wanted to invest in his business or provide a dowry."

"Does anyone really believe in that sort of thing nowadays?" Hiccup asked as Fink gave a bitter chuckle.

"My father, apparently," he scoffed. "Basically because he always needs money. No matter how much he supposedly has, he's always short."

"He gambles-spectacularly badly," Hiccup murmured. Fink's eyes widened.

"How do you know?" he asked as Hiccup shrugged.

"There's a special kind of rich that means that you can buy someone to dig up whatever information you want about…pretty much anyone," he revealed. "I am that kind of rich."

"I'm surprised my Dad hasn't suggested you marry Zeph," Fink commented sarcastically.

"I think he has her promised to Johann," Hiccup said flatly. "Not even a billionaire's wealth could break that promise. I suspect Johann extracted that from him some time back." Fink's eyes widened in horror. "But I will do whatever I can to get her away from him," Hiccup found himself promising. "She's a smart girl and incredibly talented. And she certainly doesn't deserve to be used as a pawn in your father's business dealings."

"We're all pawns in his web," Fink said bitterly. "He didn't want his son anywhere near a shopkeeper's daughter-even though I'm not even thinking about anything permanent! Thor, Maggie is my first girlfriend. _Was_ my first girlfriend…"

"What did he do?" Hiccup murmured.

"He found out about Maggie-I think her Dad said something to him at the party," Fink revealed. "So Dad contacted him and bought him off. I don't know how much he paid but he probably threatened him as a member of the Island Council. So Maggie comes up to me at school yesterday and she dumps me in front of the whole year. And I don't understand what happened, what I had done. What she said was horrible and I just felt gutted and humiliated and heartbroken. I was so hurt, I even yelled at Zeph because she tried to comfort me. And that made me feel worse."

"I'll bet," Hiccup murmured.

"I apologised at lunch and she forgave me. Well, she is my sis and she knows I love her…but she told me she'd found Maggie and they'd had a shouting match-and she'd found out what happened. Maggie confessed she broke up with me because her Dad told her to-but that she didn't want to be with someone whose father would threaten to have her Dad put in jail if she carried on going out with me! I was so mad…when we got home, I stormed up to Dad and interrupted his meeting with Ryker Grimborn. He grabbed me and threw me into the cellar and locked me in. He had one of the servants stand guard so Mom or Zeph couldn't let me out. He kept me locked up all night-there's water down there but no food-and when he let me out this morning, we had a shouting match and he…well…" He gestured to his face. "I got in a couple of hits of my own but…he's a lot bigger than me… Bastard didn't even deny what he's done."

"That's a first," Hiccup muttered.

"He told me I should be grateful to be his son, that he had provided me with the finest things in life and with opportunities that I should thank Odin for," Fink continued passionately. "But the only opportunities I want are to be able to make some decisions about what I want in life. I mean, he's already decided that I'm going to College to study Business Administration and Finance-but Thor, that would kill me. I want to do Engineering, to build and create. I mean, I service and upgrade my own bike and all I want to do is learn more and build more…but an engineer isn't what he wants."

"No, he's already had one of those and dumped him when he had served his purpose," Hiccup murmured.

"And Eret said he wanted me to marry some…Kjersti Grimborn, the First Minister's daughter," Fink protested. "I mean, I cannot believe he just wants me to marry some girl because of who her father is. That went out with the Middle Ages! And I know her-she's a bit timid and clingy for me. I like someone with some spirit. Someone who can spar with me…"

"I know what you mean," Hiccup admitted, giving a small smile.

"I don't suppose you have a daughter I could marry?" Fink asked. "I mean, you would be a better bet than Viggo. The man is just plain evil. I wouldn't trust him with anything…and Dad wants to give me to him because he's his partner…"

"Um…I had a girlfriend once…but she dumped me for someone else," Hiccup said after an awkward pause. "And no kids. Never got round to it."

"So who…?" Fink asked and sighed. He fiddled with his hands. "Who do you share your life with?"

"My friends," Hiccup revealed. "I share my wealth and my home with them." Fink looked over at the lean man, his dark auburn hair messy from his run, his eyes still hidden behind his wrap-around jogger's shades and dexterous hands clasped in his lap and he sighed.

"Wish I could stay with you," he murmured. "But Dad would make anyone's life miserable if I stayed away from home…" Eyes narrowing behind his glasses, Hiccup inspected the young man.

"You know I don't actually care what your father thinks?" he asked dryly. "I could buy him a hundred times over." Fink's shoulders slumped.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I mean, you own this area and I'm trespassing and I know I haven't checked in like I promised but honestly, I was so angry at Dad and I was self-conscious about the bruise…like, that ship has sailed…"

"My friend Fishlegs is pretty handy at first aid," Hiccup told him and rose. "Look, Fink-come up to the house. I think the twins will have finished the barbecue now and there will be something edible…though probably not everything. Unless you like aubergine and pineapple." The boy pulled a face.

"For real?" he asked as Hiccup rose and winced, grimacing as he put his weight on his prosthetic. He took one limping step and nodded, his face scrunched with pain.

"Really," he said hoarsely as the younger man jumped up.

"You okay?" he asked as Hiccup nodded wordlessly, waving him back as he leaned forward, pressing a hand to his cramping left leg.

"M'fine," he mumbled as his leg almost gave way. Suddenly, the young man had ducked under his left arm, getting him to put his weight through him.

"Lean on me," Fink urged him. "What's wrong? Can I help?" Hiccup shook his head.

"Cramps," he managed through gritted teeth. "Had a bad leg injury a long time ago. Sometimes…it comes back to bite me on the ass…" The teen stared at him and then sighed.

"We need to get you back to your house," he decided. "Can you climb at all?" Grimacing, Hiccup shook his head.

"Not like this," he murmured. "It's okay, I can call my friends and they'll come and fetch me…" But Fink shook his head stubbornly.

"I can't leave you like this," he said honestly. "That just isn't happening, sir. I mean, what kind of person leaves an injured man alone? And anyway, cell signal is really bad down here." Hiccup sighed and peered at his phone: NO SIGNAL.

"There is a lower entrance," he managed, gesturing to a narrow crack in the rocks. "Pretty narrow…" Fink gave a self-deprecating smile.

"Well, the guys at school all call me a fishbone-when they don't want anything off of me…so I can probably make it," he admitted.

"Not exactly buff end of the scale myself," Hiccup replied with instinctive sarcasm-to hear the boy chuckle.

"You know, for a really rich guy, you sound just like a normal person," he commented, grabbing his helmet and then helping Hiccup to the narrow crack, acting as a living crutch. Carefully, they manoeuvred the older man through the narrow entrance, with Hiccup more hopping than walking, almost completely unable to put any weight through his stump. But once they were through, there was still a narrow, steep path up that Fink coaxed and cajoled the older man to scramble up. Hiccup was impressed at how strong the younger man was but, he realised, he had to be strong to hang onto his bike at the speeds he tended to ride. Eventually, with Hiccup feeling nauseated with the pain, they managed to reach ground level and Fink fetched his bike. The billionaire shook his head.

"Oh no…" he murmured, shaking his head, his skin pale and clammy with pain. "Not again…"

"Hey-you've never ridden with me," Fink protested but Hiccup rested his hand on his agonising leg.

"Nope-been with Tuffnut," he murmured. "That took years off my life."

"Look, I promise I'll be really boring and drive like a total old person," Fink promised, his eyes filled with concern. "But I can't leave you here like this. It would just be wrong. No decent person would even consider doing that." Hiccup glanced at his phone once more and grimaced: NO SIGNAL. He gave a weary nod.

"I guess I should be reassured by the fact that the twins are impressed by your skills," he admitted, limping to the bike. "Mind you, Tuff's judgement is a bit weird. He thought it was 'awesome' when he almost plunged head-first into a lava pond on Dragon's Edge." Fink's eyes widened.

"He what?" he asked in shock. Hiccup managed a smile.

"We were following some clues to a mystery and ended up on the lip of an active volcano. When the edge crumbled, Tuff pitched forward. I grabbed his ankles and we managed to haul him up." He shrugged. "I mean, he was very grateful and even said he would approve of me dating and marrying his sister-but I already knew she was much more interested in Fishlegs…"

"Wow," Fink murmured. "I mean, he must have been impressed. I wouldn't approve _anyone_ dating Zeph…ever. And I mean _ever_ …" Hiccup chuckled.

"I found another way to persuade him that Fish was the man for Ruff," he revealed as Nuffink gave a broad grin.

"You have had a so much more interesting life than me," he sighed. "I mean, all I do is go to school, practice and try to avoid my asshole father…" Allowing the lad to help him onto the bike, Hiccup smiled.

"Strangely, when I was your age, I had done even less," he admitted. "I certainly wasn't Island Champion at anything-though I did get on with my Dad. Everything happened a few years after I left High School. Your life is all ahead of you, Fink. Don't worry-you'll have the chance to do weird and scary and awesome things as well."

"I wish," the boy commented and handed the older man his helmet. "Put it on!" he insisted.

"But…" Hiccup said, pushing it back to the younger man. But Fink was insistent and forced the helmet onto his head.

"Look, your brain is definitely far more valuable than mine," he pointed out as Hiccup protested.

"But yours is younger and has more future ahead of it," he pointed out as Fink started the engine.

"And you know I'm not listening," he told the older man. "Hang on!" Warily, he wrapped his arms around the younger man, feeling him tense and then accelerate away. Despite his reservations, Fink was skilled and decisive, taking them through the bushes and over the uneven mossy ground before the reached the path. Then the boy accelerated and they zoomed up towards the house, with Hiccup feeling the tension in the younger man's muscles as he guided them round the corner and into sight of the impressive house. Feeling the phone vibrate in his pocket, Hiccup felt himself relax as they pulled up to the door and saw it flung open by the twins, both of whom looked worried.

"Finky-boy!" Tuff shouted with a huge grin on his face. "We have been missing you! Where've you been?" But his sister was more astute, her brow furrowing as she saw the still shape of their friend.

"Ingen-is everything okay?" she asked, walking forward as Fink kicked the stand down and steadied the bike while Hiccup pulled his helmet off.

"Leg…" he managed, his voice hoarse with pain. "Cramping…" The twins swung into action, pulling him off the bike and half-carrying him into the house, with Fink staring after their retreating shapes. A large part of him wanted to flee, realising that he probably wasn't welcome in such a private issue-but where could he go? His home really wasn't a great option-he guessed his Dad would be furious that he had run off and if he was locked in the cellar, it would probably be a result, though another beating would be much more likely. And none of his supposed friends and ex-girlfriend would even consider giving him floor space. And, of course, there was a stubborn core in him that wanted to know how Tallon Fury was-because the man had been kind to him when he really didn't need to. So, resting his helmet on the handlebars, he followed them into the house, eyes widening as he inspected the sumptuous, light and airy surroundings with glass and light everywhere, big rooms and clean, simple lines.

"Fink!" Snotlout walked through and intercepted him, though he stared hopefully after the twins, who had taken Fury into what looked like a large sitting room. He pulled his shoulders back and faced the stocky man, realising he was probably in trouble. Snotlout frowned. "What happened?" he asked and Fink realised he wasn't talking about the billionaire. He shrugged.

"My father," he admitted in a tight voice.

"Are you okay?" The stocky man rested a concerned hand on his shoulder and the young man felt worse.

"Nothing I haven't had before," he said warily. "S'okay, sir…"

"Come on through," the older man invited him, taking him through to see Fury who was in a wide cream sitting room with several cream leather couches, a huge flatscreen TV on the wall and a window occupying the whole wall overlooking the patio. The twins, Heather and Fishlegs were already there, clustered around Fury, who was seated in a recliner, the leg-rest up flat and his leg… The boy's green eyes widened. The left pant leg was rolled up and the limb itself ended mid-calf with the scarred stump being massaged by Heather while Fishlegs was feeding the billionaire some tablets and a glass of water. Swallowing with a sigh of relief, Hiccup looked up to see the shocked shape at the door, seeing the boy's mouth form an 'O'. He beckoned him closer, a weary smile on his lips.

"It's okay," he said in a tired voice. "Thanks. You were right…I needed help. They wouldn't have found me there for a long time. As they all may have just pointed out to me…" The twins were standing with arms folded and identical scowls on their features.

"And you call us muttonheads," Tuff scolded him.

"Though we actually are," Ruff admitted. "Much of the time. I mean, we actually were the worst smugglers ever!"

"Until Ingen joined our illustrious crew…" Tuff reminded her. "Then we totally awesomely kicked ass…"

" _Ingen_ kicked ass…we just made the toast," Ruff chuckled.

"Or pop tarts…" Tuff recalled. "Hey, Ingen…?"

"No thanks, Tuff-I don't want a pop tart at the moment," Hiccup sighed.

"But your leg…" Fink murmured.

"I told you I had a bad injury in the past," Hiccup told him as the young man gave a wry smile.

"You never said you lost it completely," Fink told him as Heather looked up.

"Ingen…" she murmured warningly but the billionaire gave a small smile.

"I guess I'm a bit self-conscious of it as well," he admitted. "Please respect my confidence." Fink nodded immediately, his eyes serious.

"I understand," he said, his gaze trailing to the obvious very expensive prosthetic. "You run pretty well for a guy with one leg."

"Thanks…I think," Hiccup admitted. "I was an idiot though. I should have warmed down properly…but you needed a friend and I didn't want to put you off…"

"Muttonhead," Fishlegs murmured. The auburn-haired man nodded.

"Yup. One hundred percent," he agreed. "But I had to decide what was important."

"And you usually put yourself last on the list," Heather added, her green eyes flicking up to inspect the boy. "Are you okay?" Fink nodded.

"I'll be fine,' he said but Hiccup looked up at him.

"Listen carefully, guys," he said. "You too, Fink. I will be going to sleep in a few minutes-because the painkillers and antispasmodics Fish has given me have that effect. Fink needs a square meal-and not some weird combination of random ingredients, Tuff, I mean proper food. Then he needs a bed for the night so can you put him in the spare room at the east end of the house? You can stay as long as you want, Fink, though I guess you'll want to go home soon because of your Mom and sister." The boy nodded. "Guys, I trust him to keep my leg a secret. Please help him however he asks and however he needs. I promised I would help him and I will keep that promise. And you always have a bed, a bolt-hole here if things get too bad at home. None of us will ever tell your father where you are and you are safe here. The offer extends to your sister as well, if she ever needs a refuge. You can tell her if you feel she needs it."

The young man nodded wordlessly, his eyes suddenly stinging at the matter of fact kindness and generosity of a man he barely knew-but really, really wished he did. He swallowed.

"Um…thanks.." he said in a soft, uncertain voice. "R-really…thanks… I-I'm not worth it though…" Hiccup managed a wan smile, his eyes fluttering closed.

"You insisted on bringing me home when you didn't need to," he said in a slow, sleepy voice. "That was the action of a decent man, a decent human being. My Dad always said…the mark of a man is how he treats his fellow Berkians. A good man never stands by when someone else is in need and he can do anything to ease their suffering. You passed his test, Fink. You are in need as well…and I will not stand by when I can help you out." And then his breathing deepened and he was asleep. The others rose and left the room after Heather had tucked a light throw over him. Snotlout steered the young man away and along the corridor towards the kitchen.

"Okay-one square meal coming up," he smiled as the others followed. Tuff grinned, draping his arm around Fink's shoulders.

"I don't suppose you want a pop tart?" he said.


	22. Strategic Manoeuvres

**Twenty Two: Strategic Manoeuvres**

Eret was pacing back and forth at the hangers of Night Fury Transport, the air freight company he had stolen from Hiccup with the help of Johann, sold to finance his purchase of the Casino and then regained with the help of Johann and Viggo, who had combined to sharply manoeuvre the company from profit to serious loss with some crippling unheralded 'debts', liabilities and punitive taxes that Viggo had then decided to rescind…after his ally had bought back the company. But who could the disgruntled former owner appeal to? The First Minister and Island Council were well within their rights to impose local taxes and the only other alternative was the United Archipelago Government-whose Constitution devolved local taxes and their administration and all associated matters to the individual islands.

He glanced at the grey sky again. Fury had confirmed the purchase by a perfunctory email the day after the Ball and again advised him that the contracts for purchase were to be signed on delivery. The standard disclaimers and the summary of the contractual details themselves had been appended and Eret had ignored them as a matter of course. It had been irritating that the man had been insistent on making it legal-Eret would have preferred a gentleman's agreement, since they were so much harder to prove or enforce in a Court of Law-but he was sure that his lawyers could weasel out of any contract if necessary. And Eret had no intention of paying for the aircraft. Somehow, he would get Viggo or Johann to work some legalistic or legislative magic and get them declared overpriced or taxed or something so he wouldn't have to pay…because he couldn't. It took a lot of money to maintain the lifestyle he had become accustomed to living and the plain fact was that he was still useful to the men, in ferrying items to the blockaded island of Icefell, in carrying messages and personnel to support the traitor, always flying the missions himself because he couldn't trust another pilot with the secret commissions. They had been very insistent: in the years since Hiccup had been arrested and imprisoned, they wouldn't allow anyone else to carry their cargo. He had picked up the initials of Ryker on the suitcase and sealed his fate in that moment. But it would be impossible for Viggo to play the same trick twice and imprison another man for carrying messages or ordnance to the traitor when any competent lawyer would point out the commonalities between the two cases was in fact Eret…and Viggo had been adamant that he would never permit any re-examination of Hiccup's case. The flaws were too easy to spot and it would completely undermine his entire reputation and the foundation of his power.

He paced back and forth then paused, listening. The sounds of approaching aircraft had him breathing a relieved sigh and he peered downwind to see the unfamiliar shape of a NF-100 in sleek silver aim straight at the runway. Standing back, he pulled up his ear defenders and watched as the aircraft gently floated down to kiss the apron and make a perfect landing, decelerating and spinning round onto the taxiway and begin to roll towards the Night Fury Transport hanger. Behind, he could see a second identical aircraft, coming in a scant minute behind, again piloted with impeccable skill and replicating the perfect landing of its twin.

Grinning broadly, Eret watched the first park up a few feet from his hanger and his dark eyes swept appreciatively over the sleek and elegant shape. Everything about the aircraft oozed class and style, the design pulling the eye and the sound of the engines-a velvety purr-making Eret's pulse quicken. Suddenly, he was very much looking forward to flying one of these. As he watched, the second NF-100 gently taxied along and parked by its twin and the door of the first opened, the stairs extending immediately.

"Welcome!" he announced, spreading his arms wide in greeting. The pilot-a buxom young blonde women with bright blue eyes and a knowing smile, dressed in a smart corporate charcoal grey uniform marked with the green and red badge of Dragon's Edge Aero-walked down to nod a greeting. The second pilot-a tall handsome raven-haired man with dark eyes and a broad grin in an identical uniform-swiftly emerged from the second plane.

"Mr Eretson?" the woman asked, her tone brisk and professional. He nodded, walked to look at the nose and peer up into the cockpit.

"She's a beauty," he commented. "Was the flight okay?"

"The flight is always okay in an NF-100," the male commented with a grin. "Best damned aircraft I've ever flown." Eret gave a chuckle.

"And these babies are all mine," he said triumphantly but the women shook her head and opened the slim briefcase she was carrying.

"Not yet," she corrected him clearly. "Not until you sign the contracts of purchase and transfer of ownership. The payments schedule and standard contractual obligations, disclaimers and so forth are detailed in pages two to thirty-five of the document."

"I'll have my lawyers run over them and get back to…" Eret began but the woman shook her head.

"I am afraid, for legal reasons, we cannot allow you to take possession of the aircraft without your acceptance of the contract and signing the documents," she said. "We are happy to wait here so you can read through the documents and fax them through to your lawyers for checking." Eret peered at the thick documents, two copies per aircraft and calculated how much time that would take. He had an 'appointment' with Atali that afternoon that he was seriously looking forward to, a chance to boast about his new acquisitions and luxuriate in her welcome flattery and of course, some fiery sex. The woman was damned near insatiable and she was very willing-providing the gifts kept on coming. A huge chunk of him wished he could just ditch that sour whore Astrid and claim Atali for his wife…but a small sliver of Eret-the part which didn't have its brains in his cock-reminded him that Astrid was his window-dressing, his respectability and of course, the mother of his children. Dumping her would damage his reputation and his utility to Viggo because the man had been very clear that he wanted Astrid to get closer to the billionaire.

"I am sure the contract is acceptable," Eret said and delved in his pocket for his pen.

"Are you sure?" the male asked him in surprise. "It's always wise to check what you are signing. Are you certain you accept all the conditions?" Eret frowned at him.

"Are you questioning me?" he asked, his voice edged with anger. "Do you think I built this business by stupidity?" The male pilot raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Of course not, Mr Eretson," he said. "I merely wanted to make completely sure that you were waiving your rights to have the document checked by your lawyers prior to taking delivery."

"I already said I did-but you want me to sign," Eret snapped.

"And Mr Fury didn't offer to send the contracts over for you to get checked prior to delivery?" the female pilot asked. Eret paused. There had been a line at the bottom of the email, asking for a secure email address that he could use to send through the contracts for review prior to delivery-while emphasising that the contracts must be signed on delivery or he would be forced to take back the aircraft until they were signed. And Eret hadn't bothered to reply because he had checked the email in the middle of a poker game where he had seemed to be on a hot streak…until he wasn't. He nodded.

"I decided it wasn't necessary," he announced. "I trust Mr Fury. I am certain he is a man of his word…as am I." Then he got out his pen and signed both copies of the contracts for each aircraft below the already completed signature of Tallon Fury, the sweeping lines of the man's signature in jet black ink dwarfing Eret's own effort. Both pilots signed as witnesses and then the female pilot handed over one copy of the contract for each aircraft to Eret-along with the keys. He gave a broad grin.

"Can I get you a lift?" he asked smugly but the pilots shook their heads.

"We already have a ride," the male said, offering his hand to Eret. With a sneer, the man shook it and kissed the female pilot's hand when she offered hers for a shake as well. Without a word, they turned and walked towards the gate where a black Mercedes Limousine with darkened windows was waiting.

"Pleasure doing business with you!" Eret called, then turned back to look at his new acquisitions, already planning how he would use them to expand his business and finally recoup his losses. But unnoticed, the pilots clambered into the back of the limousine, which pulled off immediately. They said nothing until they were on the perimeter road heading for the main highway. Cami handed the contracts over to Hiccup, who was sitting patiently on the pale grey leather back seat.

"Did the handoff go to plan?" he asked as the male pilot nodded.

"Man's an idiot," he commented disparagingly.

"He signed despite Thug's warning and our giving him every chance to delay the handover and run it by his lawyers," Cami added.

"And he admitted he received the email and chose not to get the contract checked by his lawyers," Thuggory Meatham said. The scion of the hereditary rulers of Meathead Island, Thuggory was dark, handsome and completely self-confident, a former member of the United Archipelago Marine Corps who quit when his friends were killed in a disastrous raid on Icefell and had vowed revenge on those responsible. Hiccup had run into the man while he and his friends were digging into Drago Bludvist's connections to the Grimborns and Eret and he had recruited him to the expanding Dragon's Edge Aero team as a pilot and security chief. Not that Hiccup would trust anyone but Snotlout with his personal safety-but Thuggory was a close second.

"Your cameras captured the entire encounter?" Hiccup checked and Cami nodded.

"I'm sure Fish and the other lawyers can ensure that he cannot argue he didn't know what was in the clauses, having waived every chance to get them checked," he murmured.

"He almost bit Thug's head off when he asked him if he really wanted to proceed without checking," Cami chuckled. "And he claimed to be a successful businessman who wasn't stupid." Hiccup narrowed his eyes.

"A lying amoral womanising gambler," he commented." And traitor. But successful business man? I doubt it." He looked up. "Thanks, my friends." Cami grinned.

"The more I see of this man, the more I want to punch him out," she commented. "And he used to be your friend?" Hiccup nodded.

"I was his friend-but he was clearly never mine," he commented. "He was happy to steal everything I own-including Night Fury Transport. Only fair I repay the favour. And so, when he defaults, we will take everything…"

oOo

Flying back to Dragon's Edge, Hiccup sat back in his seat, reassured by the shapes of Cami and Thug in the cockpit. Though he preferred to fly himself, he wasn't sleeping well and he knew he was tired: he knew enough not to risk his life and he needed to check in with the company. Sighing, he closed his eyes and rested his head back.

"Are you okay?" Heather's voice was concerned and he forced his eyes open, meeting her concerned green gaze. "You've been very quiet."

"Tired," he said wearily as she sat next to him.

"You've been busy," she reminded him. "Glittering parties, working on that old wreck, plotting and planning…" He cocked an eyebrow at her tone.

"Which I gather you don't approve of," he realised. She looked away.

"It isn't you," she reminded him softly, her voice pensive. He glanced over to her: Heather's past had been horrific, kidnapped to a whorehouse and held prisoner until she had been broken and stopped resisting but he realised that she was a strong and brave women who had still clung to hope. When he had helped his friend-her brother-to find and rescue her, he knew she had latched onto him as her saviour but he knew that she was damaged and vulnerable-as much as he was, though he was better at hiding it.

"Maybe it actually is?" he suggested quietly, allowing his mind to slid back to the carefully corralled memories from his time in Jotunheim, the endless days of despair and cold and hopelessness, days when vengeance was all that had kept him alive because hope just hadn't been enough. And the bitter knowledge that any hope he had clung to had been misplaced in any case just hardened his resolve. "Maybe under this exterior, I'm a bitter, vengeful man?"

"Bitter people aren't kind and generous," Heather pointed out, gently taking his hand. Carefully, he curled his warm grasp around hers and she sighed. "People who are bitter reject others, drawing in on themselves and offering only cruelty and coldness to others, no matter what they have or haven't done. You're not like that."

His mind mulled over the words. In his heart, he knew he was bitter, angry and hurt at the multiple betrayals he had suffered and the tragedies that he had endured. A young man still when he had been wrenched from his family, he had been forced to watch his Godfather and Mentor die of his injuries in that frigid prison cell-and then, on returning home, he had spent his father's last hours at his side, watching the powerful, vibrant, alive man Stoick had been fade away and slide into death. They were images he sometimes saw as he started into the dark: the image of his father, his shrunken form jerking as he fought for those final, erratic breaths, his blind eyes snapping sightlessly open as he took a final, shuddering breath before he relaxed back, the last tension leaving his form and his jaw hanging slightly open, his features slack with death. He blinked, the pain of the death stabbing his heart once more and he took a deep breath.

But amid the horrors, there had been a few shining moments that managed to push the darkness back just enough to keep him as the man his father had raised. The kindness of the guard-who became his friend, Dagur-and of Gothi the medic in prison, finding Gobber, meeting the twins and Fishlegs when he needed them most and being accepted, despite what they all knew of his origin. And that moment when he dived through the water in a leap of faith and had gazed down on the shimmering piles of gold, illuminated by the sun that surrounded him with warmth and light, vindicating the sacrifices he had made in clinging to life.

"I probably am," he confessed, forcing his mind back to the present. "But maybe not completely. Because my Dad always taught me to give back to the community, to think of others in need. And so, in his memory, I do what I do because I cannot fail to be the man he would expect. Who I used to be was declared dead but though I have a new life, there are some things of the old that have to be preserved. And ultimately, though I have lost pretty much everything I had, I have gained other things…but I am not willing to surrender the last thing I possessed. Myself. The values I learned from my Dad, the virtues I believed in. And among them is protecting the island he loved and spent his life serving." Heather smiled as he leaned back, closing his eyes once more.

"You know, you are a a very complex and amazing man," she said, leaning over and kissing him. He stiffened as she moved to sit across his lap, her hands resting on his shoulders and kissed him more determinedly. Unconsciously, he felt himself responding, for he wasn't a stone…but his heart had sealed itself off in Jotunheim and after he had found out that the woman he loved had married the man who had framed him and destroyed everything…he had shut it down for good. He didn't want to risk any more pain-not even if the woman was a willing partner…or thought she was. Heather was a friend but Hiccup never saw her that way-especially since he was fighting the lingering attraction to Astrid that had reared its head when he saw her in the Great Hall. No matter what he kept telling himself, the sight of her had stirred old and unwelcome feelings, emotions…desires…and only clinging to his anger and bitterness kept them at bay.

He had paid for company, of course-especially when he was still building the company and the loneliness and pain were at their worst as he toiled day and night…but when he had finally succumbed to the desperate need, it had only granted him a brief physical reprieve. There was no emotional connection, just a person paid handsomely to service his physical needs but who could offer nothing for his emotional ones. Astrid had been his best friend and lover, his sounding board and the person who knew him almost as well as he knew himself. His imprisonment and her betrayal had stripped him of all of that as well-and though Heather could offer some emotional support, he would never exploit her for his physical desires. And he knew that she had feelings for him-though whether they were genuine or just born of gratitude and a misplaced sense of obligation, he was unsure-but the honest truth was…he didn't love her. So he pulled back, gently sliding his hands against her shoulders and pushing her back.

Her eyes widened and she looked into his face with trepidation.

"Ingen?" she breathed and then she pulled back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…I just wanted you to remember that you have friends, that you are loved and wanted and needed and that you don't have to feel alone or bitter or that revenge is the only way and…"

"…and it's okay, Heather," he reassured her, sitting up straighter and gently pushing her back and off his lap. "You haven't upset me…but I'm…not in the mood…" He sighed as she pulled away and sat back down. It hadn't come out how he had intended and he hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings…but he didn't want to give her the impression that he was at all invested in that type of relationship. That part of his life was dead and buried with his real name and he would never expose his heart and his life to being torn apart again. But guilt twanged through him as she ran her hands through her hair and sighed, staring at the floor.

"Sorry," she murmured. "You just looked…sad…" Sighing, he grasped her hand and gave a small squeeze.

"I know," he said. "I was thinking about my father…and what he would think of my actions. But I really have no other choice. This is the only thing I have been working towards ever since I cut my way out of that shroud at the bottom of the Sullen Sea." He gave Heather a wan smile.

"But what about the future?" she asked him as he rose and walked towards the cockpit.

"Eret stole my future a long time ago," he told her, his tone bleak. "Maybe when all this is done, I can consider what next. But until then…please respect my feelings." And then he vanished through the cockpit door, leaving Heather unsettled and wondering whether she would ever see Ingen happy.

oOo

"He didn't come."

Johann's voice was sharp and his tone biting as he paced across Viggo's office. The First Minister looked up.

"Did you really expect him to dance to your tune like a good little boy?" he asked dryly. "The man has been exceptionally measured in everything that he has done so far. In fact, he has managed us expertly." Johann rolled his eyes, growling in his throat, and then walked to the seat opposite the First Minister.

"I hate billionaires," he grumbled. "They seem to imagine that the rules don't apply."

"As they don't to you?" Viggo asked smoothly, turning over the page of the report he was reading. Johann gave a nasty chuckle.

"I am a Minster of the Archipelago Government," Johann reminded him, sipping his mead.

"And your loyalties lie anywhere but," Viggo commented, annoting a paragraph. "You are a a traitor, as are we all. We are actively working to undermine and destroy the rules."

"You know that he has had a few private audiences with the President?" Johann asked him as Viggo finally looked up. He laid down his Mont Blanc and frowned.

"What intelligence do we have?" he asked sharply as Johann chuckled.

"Now you're listening," he scoffed.

"I am always listening," he assured his ally. "When? How many?" Johann drained his glass and put it down with a bang on the desk.

"He's been very discreet," he commented dryly. "No records, out of hours and with only the President herself. He's met her on at least three separate occasions-but there is no clue what he is talking about."

"Probably business," Viggo said in his measured, calm tone. "He has brought immense economic benefit in terms of jobs and prosperity to three islands in a very short space of time. Any leader would court such a powerful economic ally."

"And maybe he's…?" Johann suggested but Viggo rolled his eyes.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," he snapped. "No. Is there any trail of political donations, favours, bending the rules for him?"

"I can check-now I know where to look," Johann smirked.

"Do it," Viggo ordered him curtly. "We need to know everything about this man and his dealings-to the last cent." Johann rose, a mocking expression on his face.

"I think you forget which one of us is senior in Drago's favour," he scoffed but Viggo sat back in his seat, steepling his fingers.

"And which one of us has the most to lose…" Viggo retorted. "Extend further invitations. Wine and dine him. Go slow-but make sure you find a way in. We need his prosperity when we oust the Government and our Master is crowned!" Johann walked briskly to the door before pausing and looking back.

"Eretson has his aircraft," he commented. "It's time he sent his wife in to try to seduce the billionaire. Give him the order-and then let's see if Mr Fury can resist the most beautiful woman on Berk."

oOo

"How many calls?" Hiccup asked, rubbing his forehead tiredly. There had been a mountain of matters awaiting his attention back on Dragon's Edge, matters that had been deferred or delayed because of his concentration on his mission on Berk. There were new contracts to be signed, authorisation for a new wing facility on Paxlandia, five big new orders from Middle Eastern and Asian Carriers and the purchase he was in the process of finalising.

"Seven so far-it's really like stalking," Heather commented, looking down her 'to do' list. "I really wasn't convinced that Eret was that grateful for the aircraft."

"I am certain that he isn't," Hiccup admitted, rubbing his temples methodically. He had slept poorly, his night wracked by nightmares and when he had woken, bathed in cold sweats and shaking, he had swung his legs over the side of the bed and stared out of the floor to ceiling window, the curtains pulled back revealing the inky black sky, scattered with countless brilliant stars. His house on Dragon's Edge was similar to the new home he had constructed on Berk, with huge windows, modern large rooms and every point in the house having a view of the outside. It was something he had realised was very important to him, the necessity to see the sky after all those years imprisoned in his dark, enclosed cell. He looked up to meet Heather's concerned expression. "He's after something else."

"So far, he's invited you to a lunch, a dinner, a picnic, a barbecue, a cocktail reception, a brunch…" she read out.

"Boy, he is desperate to meet up-and he certainly seems to think I need feeding up," he added sarcastically, gesturing to his lean shape. "Am I not buff enough for him?" Her lips quirked in a smile: his dry and sarcastic sense of humour was reassuring but she still worried that he looked tired.

"From the size of him, no," she guessed and then smiled. "Are you okay?" He gave a shrug.

"Not really," he admitted after a moment. He didn't want to reveal everything to her because there were still tracts of his life that he hadn't shared with her-but she deserved an answer. "I'm sleeping badly. I think…visiting Berk shook loose some bad memories…" As expected, she looked more concerned and she rested her notepad.

"What can I do?" she asked immediately but he smiled.

"A Mead on the rocks would be nice," he admitted and, as expected, she hastened to make the drink. And as he sat back, his gaze drifted out through the window, over the rolling landscape of Dragon's Edge-the island of Eyja Nott that only he and his three friends knew was the location of the fabled treasure. In fact, Dragon's Edge had been the first thing he had purchased, using the treasure he had found on the island. The irony had not been wasted on him but it had been necessary to secure the remaining treasure and ensure no one else ever located the trove. Once the island had been legally secured, he had set to building a home, away from scrutiny and the possibility of discovery. There, he had completed his designs and begun to build his empire, purchasing the aeroengineering company that he turned into the multibillion dollar business he now owned.

Admittedly, Dragon's Edge was remote and he had given his friends the option to move to more hospitable and sociable islands-but all had refused. The twins, of course, had Barf'n'Belch and had enjoyed sailing round the island, ensuring no one tried to sneak ashore while Snotlout had happily settled into the role of closest family and security Chief. Only Fishlegs had moved away-and then only temporarily, to complete a pupilage at a prestigious Law Firm on Dragon Island so that he could finally practice Law. However, he was very firm that his home was with the others, his friends-and Ruffnut, who was his sort-of girlfriend. And he had assumed the role of Hiccup's Legal Adviser and Counsellor. In fact, the house had become a sort of strange commune with each having his or her area and there was plenty of room, facilities and entertainment as Hiccup ensured his friends-who had all steadfastly refused to take any share of the treasure-lacked for nothing. But there was one drawback: the house's relative proximity to Freezing-To-Death which always unconsciously had him slightly on edge, the fear always there that someone would could for him, realising that he had escaped and was still a convict. That they would take him back to that dark hole, away from light and company and warmth and would finally leave him there to die.

"Here," Heather said firmly and pushed the Mead into his hand. He blinked, realising that he had closed down, losing himself in the horrific fear that was the core of his worst nightmares. All his friends had come to recognise the look, the expressionless face and trapped look in his glazed green eyes that told them he was lost in some dreadful memory from his scarred past. And all of them had agreed to ensure that there was always one of them on hand to snap him out of it-and ensure he knew he wasn't alone. Forcing himself to focus only on the heavy crystal tumbler, he nodded and took a sip.

"Thanks," he murmured and swallowed the alcohol. "Decline. Politely. I want to keep Eret at arm's length until we have him exactly where we want him. I think I'm not going to any one-on-one engagements-just formal events. I don't want to give any of them a chance to get too close." Heather nodded and made a note.

"There was a message from Mr Throk," she revealed finally. "He says-the mission is on. Tomorrow. He will phone you later with the details." Hiccup nodded and sat up straighter.

"Please have Cami and Throk on standby and ensure my helicopter is fully fuelled," he said. "I have an old friend to visit."


	23. Return to Helheim

**Twenty Three: Return to Helheim**

Circling round the rugged cliffs amid the cloudy skies, Hiccup found himself taut as a bowstring, his eyes fixed on the desolate landscape and the dark, broody silhouette of Jotunheim Prison-the prison that no one ever escaped from. Except he had and now he was voluntarily flying back to Freezing-To-Death, to the place that had taken so much from him because the President had asked for his help.

Mala Queen, the President of the United Archipelago Government, had listened to him when he had approached her. Her stance on judicial matters was legendary, a major point of conflict between herself and the First Minister of Berk, because she believed that though crime should be punished, brutality had no place in the penal system. The Death Penalty had long been abolished and all opponents knew that she would never sanction any reconsideration, because all life carried hope. Even the highest security prisons focussed on rehabilitation and on treating drug and alcohol habits and mental health problems rather than locking the inmates up and letting them rot. And the worst prison in the north, the infamous Jotunheim, had long been a thorn in her side and an offence to her sensibilities and those of all of the reformers in the Government.

As they circled once more, Cami glanced over her shoulder.

"You okay there, boss?" she asked clearly and he nodded.

"Never better," he lied as they circled round the grim building and he stared at the plethora of Helicopters there from a variety of services. He could see the liveries of the Justice Ministry, the Archipelago Security Service ASS, the Joint Archipelago Army and the Prisons Service.

"Lot of activity down there," Cami continued calmly. "Where do you want to land?"

"As close as you can to the entrance-and be ready to take off at a moment's notice," Hiccup told her. "When I leave, I want to get off here as soon as. I am only here because the President and Throk asked."

"Roger that," the woman said briskly and she and Thuggory landed precisely, directly by the entrance to the prison, which was open and guarded by four armed Archipelago soldiers, their deep green cold weather jackets, caps and gloves scant protection against the scouring wind. Pulling his shades on, Hiccup stepped down from the helicopter, ducking as the rotors were still idling and headed directly into the prison. A sergeant was waiting for him as he arrived and saluted.

"Mr Fury!" he greeted the billionaire. "It's an honour to meet you. The Special Investigator has asked me to bring you to him." Nodding, Hiccup offered the man his hand and shook it firmly, then followed him through the entrance, walking along the cold stone passageway, recalling his younger shocked self desperately trying to memorise the way through in case he got a chance to escape…never realising it would be over a decade before he would finally leave the prison, though more than ten years after he had been declared dead.

The Special Investigator, Throk, looked up, his cool hazel eyes sweeping over the tall shape of the billionaire. Hiccup was dressed in a dark suit, sage green shirt and charcoal tie, his trademark mirror glasses concealing his eyes as ever. The tall red-haired man nodded to the civilian.

"I am glad you are here, Tallon Fury," he admitted. "We have apprehended the guards and confiscated all records but none of the guards are co-operating." Hiccup nodded.

"Hardly surprising," he replied evenly. "All of them knew what was happening here-and they are all guilty." Throk nodded.

"Where first?" he asked and Hiccup took a deep breath.

"The Cellar," he murmured. "The Ring." Throk nodded. That had been the most upsetting, unbelievable thing that he had the President had heard when Fury had visited them and told his tale. It was obvious to both officers that the billionaire had a dark past that had certainly included a spell in the penal institution-though a guard or prisoner, it had been difficult to tell. At first. Now, Throk was convinced the man was an escaped prisoner and he had discussed the matter with the President at length for the pair had a dilemma. Both were desperate to dismantle the horrific nightmare that Jotunheim clearly was-but could they justify allowing an escaped and clearly very dangerous convict to walk free?

In the end, the President had come to a decision that Throk didn't wholly agree with but which he had accepted as the most pragmatic and fair.

_"_ _This man came to us, Throk," she had said. "He knows Jotunheim because he was there. The tale of suffering is horrific. The corruption and criminality that he reveals is beyond appalling and the ties to the rich, powerful and the enemies of our Government are terrifying! He has created a new identity, built a business, employs thousands, brings economic benefit to several of our islands and he has volunteered to help us. Whatever his crime was, I believe that he has more than paid. And his actions since have been in the interests of law-abiding a decent citizens. So we give the man his chance. There is no record that anyone has ever escaped from Jotunheim and thus…how can he be an escaped prisoner? Let his crimes and his former name remain buried. And accept his help in ending that dreadful place, once and for all."_

Hiccup was quiet as he walked down the wide stairs into the cellars, the wide circle of heavy wood tables, the throne-like chairs and modern brilliant lamps positioned between the chairs to blind the combatants to the identities of the audience who cheered and salivated over their mortal combats. He gestured.

"There," he explained. "Men were brought in there. The Governor used to choose the bouts. Men were promised favours-better food, more blankets, _luxuries_ -if they fought and won. Losers died-because these were all bouts to the death. They started unarmed usually and then a knife was thrown into the centre. The man who killed his opponent won."

"And men willingly participated?" Throk asked him, his face shocked. Hiccup took a deep breath.

"Not all," he admitted. "Not all. But many-because most of the men here were recidivists, men who were rightly convicted of horrific crimes. And when you are faced with such harsh and terrible conditions and the opportunity presents itself to get some warmth and food, you will do anything to improve your life, even a fraction. No one was under any illusion that you would ever leave here-so why should you suffer more than you need to? And why should you care about another convict you don't know but who you are certain would slit your throat if they could get a bowl of warm stew for it?"

He walked forward and crouched down, trailing a finger over rusty, brown stains on the dusty floor.

"Spray the whole place with Luminol," he advised Throk. "There will be blood."

The Special Investigator and the billionaire stood back as the Crime Scene Technicians moved forward, their goggles on and sprays ready and they thoroughly and precisely sprayed the floor, tables and chairs. Then they killed the lights and flipped on an ultraviolet torch.

The room glowed with the eerie blue-white light, the floor and tables almost totally covered with residue of blood from a thousand bouts. There was liberal splatter on all of the chairs with the blank silhouettes of the rich standing out against the glow and on the stands of the lights as well, making the place look as if a bloodbath had occurred. And it had, over and over, stretching back over decades. Hiccup felt his eyes unfocus, the memories of his bouts swirling around him once more. Especially that final bout, where he was literally fighting for his life, despite Alvin and Drago's obvious plan to bury him once and for all.

"…Fury? Are you alright?"

He started as he felt Throk lightly touch his shoulder and he blinked, forcing the memory back down.

"I have claustrophobia," he said quietly. "This enclosed surrounding…is challenging. And I never realised there had been so much blood spilled here." _Some of it mine_. He turned. "I'll be on the ground floor." And then he rapidly walked up the stairs, breathing deeply and forcing the bile back down his throat. He refused to vomit, refused to show weakness because this was his revenge. This was the day he had planned for years. This was the day he defeated Jotunheim.

Throk joined him after leaving orders for his team and gestured.

"Where next?" he asked. Hiccup swallowed.

"Cell Twenty-Nine," he said, clenching his fists so hard his nails bit painfully into his palms. "Proof that they have lied about the care of their prisoners." Unerringly, he walked along the corridor, walking past 34 with a shudder and round the corner, until he finally reached the door of Cell 29, the door he had been carried through in a shroud to be pitched over the cliffs to a watery unmarked grave. Throk gestured.

"Open it!" he ordered the sergeant and the man used the master key to unlock the heavy metal door. Hiccup stared into the familiar dusty space, realising that no one had been placed here since Gobber died. Hiccup paused at the threshold, recalling his mentor's voice, the amused twinkle in his blue eyes and the humour in his thick, accented voice. Then he walked forward, turning slowly to reorientate himself, though he could recall every inch of the cell, every irregularity in the floor, the sleeping area where he and Gobber had huddled together for warmth, the little niche where Gobber had put his books… Slowly, he crouched by the entrance to the tunnel and slid his fingers round the edges of the stone, brushing away the accumulated dust and digging into the familiar points to lift the stone and expose the tunnel.

His nose wrinkled, the faint waft of decay and putrefaction still hanging in the air. In the gloom, he could glimpse what had once been a foot, jammed down the tunnel as he had frantically hidden his dead mentor and friend so he could take his place in the shroud, denying Gobber the burial he had deserved. But he would right that wrong as well. He rose to his feet and backed away.

"Here," he said, gesturing. "The former resident of this cell, Gobber Belcher. He died in here and they denied him a decent burial-though I am certain that the Governor claimed the full amount for the coffin and funeral expenses…" Throk nodded as the next team of men walked in, armed with shovels and a coffin and then the Special Investigator rested a comforting hand on Hiccup's shoulder.

"Your friend will be retrieved and we will finally grant him the burial that any human being deserves," he said. "Unless…?" Hiccup nodded, his expression grateful.

"I will see to it," he said. "Back on Berk, his home island. I shall ensure he is laid to rest by his friend." Then quietly, he took a breath. "Did you find anyone?" Throk shook his head.

"The Geophysics showed that not one single supposed grave had ever been disturbed," he said. "There was no evidence of any earthworks or of any skeletons. There were no bodies. None at all. No one is buried in the cemetery." Hiccup raised his head and stared at the cell, from where emanated the sounds of clangs and shovels biting into the hardened, cold earth.

"The cliffs," he said tonelessly. "They were all shrouded and pitched into the sea. No ceremony, no Priest, no coffin. Just fabric and water and nothingness." Throk frowned and then clapped him on the shoulder again, hearing the pain in his voice.

"The Archipelago Science Ships _Celsius_ and _Nils Bohr_ are already anchored off the island and the Captains have been ordered to deploy their ROVs to investigate what lies down there," he assured Hiccup. "They are the finest Marine Research Vessels in the North, Fury. They will find the remains-and offer the poor souls some closure." Hiccup nodded, blinking to clear his vision. This was proving much harder than he had expected and a part of him really wished that he had brought the twins or Fishlegs or even Snotlout with him…but in his heart, he knew that he had to face this alone.

"You said you had confiscated the records from the Governor?" he asked and Throk nodded.

"They are very detailed," he confessed. "Our forensic accountants are investigating them as we speak. As well as the officers of the Justice Department and ASS."

"Well, it would be vital not to make any mistake about accidentally claiming for two funerals for the same prisoner," Hiccup commented sarcastically. "Alvin ran this place as his own fiefdom for years. You don't oversee this level of corruption by being sloppy. He was meticulous-and very, very greedy."

"You know, there were eight more prisoners in the cells than were supposed to be here," Throk commented. Hiccup nodded absently, glancing back at cell 29.

"A lot of suicides on Jotunheim," he murmured. "Every prisoner killed in the fights was a 'suicide'. Every prisoner who died of neglect was a 'suicide'. And every prisoner Al released to recruit to his guards-or send on to join Drago's traitors in Icefell was a 'suicide'. I'm surprised that no one ever asked a question about it." Looking ashamed, Throk turned away.

"I think…no one in the Government cared enough-until the President was elected," he confessed. "And then she finally ordered her team to look into prisoner welfare…and the anomaly was uncovered. But there was a lot of resistance."

"Let me guess-from those who had made their careers by shipping off all their problems and any opponent here?" the billionaire asked sarcastically.

"So I believe," Throk murmured. "But the excess prisoners?"

"Al must already have claimed for their funerals because maybe the drop in prisoners coming here is hitting his bottom line," Hiccup murmured. "Can I have the keys? I have one more place I need to visit before I speak to him." Nodding, Throk gestured and his sergeant handed the keys over.

"We'll be waiting at the stairwell," he assured Hiccup. "And don't worry-all the prisoners have already been removed from their cells and all the staff are in custody. Take what time you need."

Quietly, Hiccup walked back along the corridor, his eyes fixed straight ahead. There was one last place to see, the one place he had never wanted to visit again-but now, which he felt an overwhelming desire to stand in one last time-before the prison was dynamited and destroyed for good. So he stopped outside the door of cell 34 and stared at the metal, resting his fingers on the pitted surface before turning the key in the lock and pulling the door open.

The cell was musty and cold, the dust thick on the flagged stone floor, telling Hiccup that no one had been assigned to his cell either since he vanished. Breathing hard, he looked within, feeling an iron band tighten around his chest, almost causing him to be unable to breathe. Images flashed through his mind, a blur of moments in that place…

_Of his first days, cold and terrified but still clinging to hope. Of hunger and cold and despair. Of pain, recovering from fight and fight, wondering when his luck would end and he would die. Of the return after his time with Drago, his body hurting as never before or since, the shame and despair almost overwhelming him. Of his return after that last fight, badly hurt and his leg shattered, the pain a constant fire, tearing him to shreds. Of fever and delirium, of hoping for death and that maybe his Mom would welcome him home because he hoped and prayed his father and lover would still be alive and happy. Of waking, down a leg and bereft of all hope, Of the times he had tried to take his life but baulked at the last because something made him hang on. And of that magical moment when Gobber's head popped up in his cell, breaking a silence of years and reminding him that he was still part of the human race. And days and years spent with his friend, of laughter and tears, learning and sharing and love-platonic, avuncular and genuine-bringing Hiccup back from the brink of destruction and giving him a purpose that had literally saved his life. And those last feverish hours, after Gobber's death when he had taken the desperate step to try to make use of the loss of his companion to finally escape._

He stepped into the cell. The air was cold and still, the band round his chest tighter so that he could barely breathe. But he walked forward, craning his neck as he peered up through the tiny window, seeing a small bird nesting there, out of the wind and the sight of the sky eased the tension a little. Swallowing and stretching a hand up to the tiny patch of sky, the clouds scudding overhead, blurred through the filthy glass, Hiccup took a breath and closed his eyes, then turned back to the cell.

It was exactly as he remembered it, the little sleeping shelf, the uneven floor-and the scratches on the wall, marking every day he spent in the hellhole. He glanced at them, knowing them by heart. Over three thousand eight hundred scratches, representing the prime of his youth, spent locked up like an animal in the cold and hunger. Stepping back, he fished out his phone and carefully documented the cell, taking detailed images of his sleeping place, the calendar, the floor, even the miserable window-and of the door. Then he walked over to the sleeping place and found the loose stone, checking the little space. And unexpectedly finding a few scraps of paper still folded in there. He frowned, peering at the yellowed paper, the tiny pencil writing of a letter to his father that he had never sent-and a letter to Astrid. There was another drawing of her in there, the smile one he recalled but which now filled him with unreasonable anger…and then he folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket.

The band around his chest released and he took a deep breath. He was free-and now he had the means to exact revenge on everyone who had wronged him. Starting today. So he strode out of the cell without a backwards glance, leaving the door wide open as he walked away, heading up to rendezvous with Throk-and his appointment with the Governor.

The office was as he recalled, cold and devoid of much in the way of welcome-except that the comfortable chair had been placed opposite the desk where Alvin was sitting complaining. The years had not been kind to the Governor, his wild hair grizzled and grey beard wilder than ever. Throk stood opposite him as the billionaire walked in and sat in the padded leather seat that he had used for only his honoured guests. two of Throk's men stood beside the Special Investigator as Alvin stirred.

"I ain't done nuffin' wrong!" he protested, his wheezy voice hoarser than ever. "This is some 'orrible set up. I bin framed!" Hiccup stared stonily at the man, seeing his eyes fill with confusion at the man sitting opposite him and unable to get any sort of read from him.

"That's interesting-because I know people here were framed as well," Hiccup commented. "However, you are guilty of the crimes you are accused of."

"Your own extremely detailed records have been good enough to provide conclusive proof of your criminality," said one of the men, a thin man in the grey uniform of a Justice Department Administrator. "Tell me about the Fighting Arena?" Alvin opened his mouth to bluster and then he sat back.

"You know what-yer got me," he said suddenly, his tone resigned. "No one cares what happens to these men. they were sent here to be locked up until they died. No visitors are allowed because the DoJ won't fund or insure any passenger transports to allow family to check their loved ones."

"So that was your excuse?" Throk growled. "Starving them, Keeping them in isolation? No heating or proper medical care? And fighting them like dogs?"

"I get paid to look after 'em-but why waste good money on good food?" Alvin asked. "And the fights was very lucrative. Rich men pay for a thrill, for something that mere mortals cannot afford. And seeing men fight to the death certainly falls in that category…" Throk's brows dipped further, his scowl deepening.

"I see a lot of familiar names," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Including the name of Bludvist. The man is persona non grata and wanted for treason across the Archipelago."

"Technically we ain't in the Archipelago and I'm not tryin' to arrest 'im," Alvin pointed out reasonably. "And he paid very well for his seat…and for other favours…" Hiccup stiffened.

"Yes," Throk said after a pause. "You sold the prisoners for…sexual favours…"

"Rented," Alvin corrected him. "I rented them out. And they certainly enjoyed the favours they earned. The men who used 'em wanted them well fed and pretty so they got baths, food, clean clothes…it was a popular job…"

"Not for all," Hiccup murmured as Alvin turned his gaze back to the stranger.

"Do I know you?" he asked thoughtfully as Hiccup stared at him.

"I doubt it," he said quietly. "I died sixteen years ago."

Greying bushy brows knotted as the Governor stared at him.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Who asked you to declare Hiccup Haddock dead mere months after he arrived-when he was still very much alive?' the billionaire demanded.

"I don't know what you're…" Alvin blustered as Hiccup snatched his glasses off and glared, rising to his feet.

"I believe I had just had my first fight when my family was told of my suicide," Hiccup told him bluntly. "I fought for over two years…until I was summoned to your office-and given to Drago." Alvin's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Thirty-four…" he mouthed in shock.

"And yet you still conspired with him to kill me, to put me in a fight against your champion. But I survived. _Everything_." Throk stared.

"You mean he escaped?" he asked.

"How could he?" Alvin growled. "He was dead. And I wouldn't declare a man escaped from me prison anyway. I had friends who were looking for you…but they never found you…"

"Why did you declare him dead?" Throk insisted. "Who told you to?" Alvin chuckled.

"First Minister Grimborn," he revealed. "Apparently the prisoner had family who were asking too many questions, family who wouldn't give up and who'd demanded an Appeal or a Judicial review. They were absolutely determined-and they were willing to bypass Grimborn and go straight to Central Government. Grimborn wouldn't allow that-so the prisoner had to die. And I was supposed to actually kill him-but he was a pretty boy and I could make a profit from him-one way or another…if yer get me meaning…"

"No," Throk said woodenly as Hiccup stared into his eyes.

"You know, that man facing you is a traitor," Alvin added slyly. "He's a very dangerous man and an escaped convict. He's the one yer should be worried about, not me…"

"And yet he was the only person who has ever managed to get testimony out of here," Throk said in a firm voice. "He is the one who led us to your corruption. And we have evidence you welcomed the traitor Drago, you diverted convicts who had been sent here for being in his service back to him, declaring them dead to prevent any examination of their sudden disappearance! And you abused and murdered prisoners for profit."

"Yer know, yer not worrying me," Alvin told him. "Yer own policies mean I'll just be locked up in a cushy cell, rehabilitated and I'll be out in a few years to enjoy me riches…" But Throk gave a small smile.

"You seem to have missed our Proceeds of Crime Act," he told the man. "When you are convicted, you will be given a whole life sentence for the breadth of your crimes. And our government will track every last cent across the entire globe and return every one to the public purse."

"What? That's inhuman!" Alvin protested. Hiccup put his glasses back on and gave a thin smile.

"No-what you did here for decades was inhuman," he told the Governor clearly. "And what you deserve is to be imprisoned for the rest of your life and lose every penny you earned through the misery, despair, depravity and death you presided over." Then he nodded as Throk motioned two army officers the escort Alvin away. The Governor struggled.

"I have information-vital information!" he protested. "Drago is coming! And I know lots more than they think! Please…" But Throk remained silent as he was dragged away, still protesting and struggling until his voice had died away. Then he turned to the billionaire and Hiccup stared back at the man.

"What next?" he asked. Throk stared at him.

"Was what he said the truth?" the Special Investigator asked. Eyes flicking to the door, Hiccup paused-then nodded.

"Yes," he said.

"All of it?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

Hiccup took a shuddering breath.

"Over ten years," he admitted. "But I was declared dead within three months of arriving."

Throk looked at him and took a breath. His natural core, the rigid personality that was wedded to laws and regulations, who was not good at latitude or leniency, was screaming at him to arrest the man in front of him as an escaped convict…but the other part-the part that had seen the wretched specimens that had been hauled from the prison, men starved and abused, men missing limbs or blind or mad from years of unjust solitary-disagreed. He believed in the principle of paying debts to society, of imprisonment as a punishment and a way to protect the public-but also in rehabilitation. What Jotunheim represented was a Medieval model of justice that brutalised its victims and offered nothing but despair. That Tallon Fury had survived it, that he had escaped-and that he had built a new life was perhaps the best vindication of the President's orders. And now he understood, Throk realised that Fury was the ally they needed in these dark times, with Drago's tentacles permeating every corner of Archipelago life.

"You can't chase a dead man," he announced. "You can't arrest a dead man. You can't imprison a dead man. Whoever died here, let them remain dead," He offered Hiccup his hand. "Thank you, Tallon Fury. Your help has uncovered a recruiting ground for Drago and prevented more men suffering and dying as so many have." Hiccup shook his hand, the weight of anxiety falling from his shoulders in relief.

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "This place…is an abomination. I am glad that it is done."

Throk watched the man as he walked towards the main entrance, glancing over to where Alvin was being bundled into a Prison Service helicopter, following him with long strides.

"Fury?" he called. "I know that you have bought the prison from the Justice Department. What are you planning?" Hiccup reached the helicopter, the engine already beginning to build. He glanced back at the shape against the sullen sky, the prison no one escaped from-but which he had. Finally. Irrevocably.

"When it's clear and you have retrieved the bodies and all the evidence you need," he said, "my associates have already engaged a demolitions firm. Once you've finished with it, I'm blasting it to Helheim."


	24. Fury's Web

**Twenty- Four: Fury's Web**

"Yes-I am trying!" Eret growled over the phone, his voice exasperated. "The man is ghosting me. I've left dozens of messages with his PA but all they are saying is he's off-island at the moment…"

"Calm down," Viggo told him in a mildly exasperated voice. "It is possible that he is attending to his business as he says. The man has an aerospace company and unlike you, he is clearly a successful and driven businessman and entrepreneur. It is entirely plausible that he would need to check in on his company and ensure that things were running smoothly. Calm down and don't appear too desperate. That will just make him suspicious!"

"I wish you people would get your story straight," Eret grumbled. "Johann is busting my ass over getting Astrid to try to seduce him-not that the frigid bitch I'm married to would make a move on anything-and now you tell me to back off."

"I expected you to possess at least a modicum of common sense," Viggo sighed. "If he is busy and off island, enquire when he's coming back and extend an invitation to him after he returns. Assuming your wife will be willing to host him again?" Eret sighed

"She'll do as she's ordered," Eret announced brashly. "If she won't fuck me, she can fuck him."

"I will defer to your insight," the First Minister said coolly. "Make sure he connects with her." And he hung up, leaving Eret staring at the receiver. Cursing, he slammed it back into the cradle.

"That poncy bastard!" he snapped, chucking back his mead. " _Extend him an invitation after he returns!_ What am I-his servant?" Atali trailed a soothing hand over his shoulder.

"No-you're a fantastic businessman and the only man who could do the job," she purred. "I mean, could you see Viggo or Ryker befriending the mysterious Tallon Fury? The man plays his cards closer to his chest than a monk." Eret leaned closer to her and pressed a kiss on her lips.

"And how many card-playing monks do you know?" he asked her playfully as she allowed him to suck gently at her throat.

"Mmm…just a saying around where I was brought up," she murmured. "And monks never give anything away."

"Neither does Fury-though he has sponsored a competition for school kids," he frowned and waved at a passing waiter for a refill of his mead. "Art."

"Your daughter is an artist," Atali pointed out as Eret pulled back and started laughing.

"Zeph? I guess-but she's hardly any good!" he scoffed.

"I believe your wife feels that she is," Atali pointed out. "Why can't you get her to enter? It may be another way to connect with your elusive billionaire?" Eret frowned.

"I could tell her to enter,' he murmured then shook his head. "I'll send Astrid in. She can earn her keep for once." Atali giggled, her agile mind imagining the reserved and elegant blonde whoring herself for her husband.

"And do I have to earn my keep as well?" she pouted but Eret chuckled, feeling the bulge of her latest gift in his pocket.

"You can keep me company…while I'm at the poker table and later," he told her. "And if you're a good girl, I may have a present for you." She gave a broad grin, clinging to his arm.

"Baby," she murmured as Eret grabbed the drink the waiter had delivered and grabbed the man's arm.

"Get me a seat at the High Stakes Stud Table," he ordered the man. "And get me a fifty K stake, on the House." The man nodded.

"Very good, Mr Eretson-I'll see to it immediately," he said and glided off as Eret threw the mead back once more.

"Come on, baby," he murmured, grabbing her arm and heading into the Casino. "I feel lucky tonight."

oOo

Nuffink arrived up at the House on Raven Point as Fury and his friends emerged, all dressed in black. The young man killed his engine and pulled his helmet off, staring at them.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked but Hiccup shook his head.

"Not at all," he said calmly. "Feel free to use the area-but try to be safe. We're going to be out for a couple of hours." Fink frowned.

"I can come back another time," he offered but the billionaire gave a small smile.

"I think your competition is in a couple of weeks so you need the practice, Fink," he said. "Go ahead. We'll be back soon." Nodding, the boy pulled his helmet on and started the bike, then zipped off round the house and into the forest. Hiccup sighed and clambered into the back of the first limousine, with Cami at the wheel, Snotlout riding shotgun and Heather and Fishlegs in the back with him. Thuggory and the twins were coming in the second car, driving in close convoy behind. They wound their way down into the town-and out to the other side, until they reached the Cemetery,

The day was grey with a breeze that ruffled Hiccup's dark auburn hair as he clambered out of the car. There was an open grave a few yards away and he walked unerringly forward, with his friends following him. The Priest was standing by a plain coffin, marked only with a simple plaque reading 'GOBBER'. When everyone was assembled, the Priest looked up, his black robes moving slightly in the cool breeze.

"Thank you for coming today," he announced. "We are gathered here to honour our friend, who died some seven years ago and was only brought to be decently buried now." He murmured a few prayers and the mourners all bowed their heads until he stopped talking. Then he looked up. "Who wants to speak?"

After a second, Hiccup nodded and walked forward to stand by the Priest, his glasses reflecting the people who were his adopted family. _Friends are the family you choose for yourself,_ he reminded himself as he stared across the expectant faces. Only one of them had ever met Gobber-and Snotlout had admitted that he could barely recall the man. But they had all come with him to the service without hesitation because he was their friend and they all knew that he would need to support. 'Ingen' spoke rarely about his past but this man had clearly been important to him so they had all insisted on coming-though the twins' matching black Metallica tee-shirts and black jeans slightly missed the dignity of the occasion, though they scored on the colour requirement. He mentally shook his head, inwardly reminding himself that Gobber would probably be roaring with laughter at the sight. _But would I ever have chosen the twins, Fishlegs, Heather, Cami, Thug or Snot if this hadn't happened? I don't know…but I wouldn't have it any other way…except, I wish Dad was alive._

_Thor, I wish Dad was alive just about now…_

"We are here to honour my Godfather, my unofficial 'Uncle' and my mentor," he announced. "He vanished from all our lives many years ago, consumed by a quest and I know my father missed him often. He frequently spoke of his friend with nostalgia and sorrow…but I never expected to find him where I did. And when I needed him most, he was there. He gave me impetus, he taught me and helped me. He challenged me to hone my designs and he left me the money I needed to start the company. He was my best friend in the darkest point in my life-and his death was tragic and needless and the worst day I can recall in a life that definitely has a lot of very low points. Now, I can pay the smallest fraction of my debt to him by laying him to rest on his home island, with his friends and his family."

And then he paused, lifting his chin and switching to a language that none of them understood-except the Priest, whose eyes widened in shock. The last thing he had expected was the mildly mysterious billionaire who had moved to Berk speaking the Viking Prayer in perfect Norse.

_"_ _Lo, there do I see my father. Lo, there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers. Lo, there do I see the line of my people Back to the beginning. Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them In the halls of Valhalla Where the brave may live forever."_

His words rang through the Cemetery and Heather and Fishlegs both found their eyes stinging with tears at the intensity and emotion he put into the words. Slowly, he leaned forward and grasped a handful of earth, placing it on the centre of the coffin, then resting a lingering hand gently onto the plaque before he turned and walked back to the group. The Priest stood back and pushed the button, ensuring the mechanism lowered the coffin smoothly into the grave.

"May Lord Odin look favourably on our departed brother, may be forgive his weaknesses and honour his strengths and grant him rest in Valhalla where the Brave may live forever," he announced and bowed his head. Then he sighed. "It is done." Tuff looked up.

"I thought Vikings were burned," he asked, frowning as his sister slapped him upside the head.

"Shh! Not the time!" she hissed.

"But…" Tuff argued as Hiccup glanced up and surprisingly, there was a small smile on his face.

"In fact, he would have loved to have been granted a good old fashioned Viking burial on a flaming ship," he admitted. "But I checked. First Minister Grimborn and the Island Council outlawed them twelve years ago as polluting, a fire hazard and a danger to shipping in the harbour."

"Yeah-that cause a real furore," Snotlout admitted. "My Dad and I marched into the Plaza with placards, along with half the population…much good it did. Not."

"That's a violation of people's rights to worship," Fishlegs commented in an outraged tone. His father had been treated to a full Viking Cremation a few years before the ban and he felt strongly about the issue.

"And my Dad would definitely have wanted to be buried on a burning Longboat," Hiccup admitted. "I always felt I had let him down and not done what would have been his dying wish. He was a Viking through and through. And he knew all eight verses of the song as well."

"Not to mention the longboat builders and escort boats," Fishlegs continued passionately. "They would have been driven out of business by this!"

"It's all wrong," Tuff agreed. "Ingen-can't you do something?" Hiccup frowned.

"Um…what?' he murmured.

"Bring back proper funerals!" the male twin explained. "When I die, I want to be properly cremated on a burning ship."

"You do realise that the temperatures achieved on burning ship are far too low to achieve complete cremation?" Hiccup asked him pointedly. "They would char away the flesh but the bones would sink with the wreckage, along with any metallic grave goods…"

"Really? Metallic…as in gold, silver, platinum…?" Tuff asked eagerly as Hiccup sighed.

"Nope. Not at all. Not even slightly…" the billionaire said quickly and then turned to the Priest, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. "I'm sorry. They do get slightly inappropriate but they mean no disrespect. And I can guarantee without any doubt that they will not be diving in the harbour for any grave goods…" The Priest chuckled.

"The First Minister outlawed that as well," he explained.

"Though I bet five dollars he had people down there the next day, sifting through the ooze just in case," Tuff muttered grumpily. "Tyrant." The Priest's eyes widened as he glanced at the banker's draft.

"Is it sufficient?" the billionaire asked as the man almost choked.

"This says twenty thousand dollars," the Priest gulped. Hiccup nodded.

"My father believed and I think Gobber did too," he admitted. "Me…well, sometime in the dark and cold, in isolation and down a leg, my faith went as well. But you provide comfort for many-and that should be properly supported. I hope this helps…" The Priest lunged forward and grasped Hiccup's hand in both of his.

"Thank you, son," he said genuinely, his face lit by a relieved and delighted smile. "This will mean we can help so many! Your generosity is…"

"…the merest fraction of what I received from others, my Uncle, my friends…" Hiccup explained. "I just hope it is of use." The priest shook his hand once more.

"I will pray for you, son," he promised as Hiccup gently extracted his hand and pulled away.

"Thank you for arranging this so quickly," he said honestly. "It means a lot to him-and me. It is the last thing i can do for him, when I couldn't before. But save your prayers, Priest-it's too late for me." But the Priest gave a small smile.

"There is always a chance at redemption," he told the billionaire as Hiccup turned back to the car.

"Not for me-or those who created me," he said.

oOo

"So how much exactly is he in debt?" Hiccup asked as he sat back in his chair, flicking through the channels. In the days after the funeral, he had suffered nightmares and was drained and exhausted and his friends had tried very hard to cheer him up. The twins were barbecuing every meal with some insane food combinations all topped with chocolate and caramel, Heather was extra solicitous and Snotlout even went down to his father's home and fished out some old family photos to try to cheer Hiccup up-but he had come back with almost none because pretty much all pictures of teen Hiccup and older included Astrid as well. But he brought a couple in any case because they included Stoick and Hiccup had been touched and grateful.

"I would have thought it almost impossible for someone to make a loss at a Casino, since the House always wins," Fishlegs revealed. "But Eret has really broken the mould. He has managed to make a consistent loss, mainly because he uses Casino funds to gamble so poorly. And he also uses the takings to fund an extremely lavish lifestyle."

"Well, that's no surprise," Hiccup commented, thumbing the screen off. "He always had an expensive taste and no ability to recognise when he should walk away."

"In addition, he has a small air freight business as well which should be profitable," Fishlegs continued in a bewildered voice.

"Always was for me," Hiccup murmured.

"What?"

"Carry on," the billionaire murmured.

"His gambling has really got out of control," the husky man continued. "Last night he dumped over a hundred thousand in a high stakes poker game. And spent twenty thousand on a diamond necklace for his mistress."

"Does anyone say _mistress_ nowadays?" Hiccup asked him dryly.

"I just did," Fishlegs replied with a smile. "The latest in a long line of women that Eret has betrayed his wife with." Arching an eyebrow, Hiccup turned to face him.

"How many?" he asked in a low voice.

"Fifteen," Fishlegs said. "Starting about six months after they married."

"I see the honeymoon didn't last long," he commented. "Maybe just enough to knock her up…and then he lost interest." He shook his head though there was a thoughtful look in his eyes..

"The current incumbent is Atali Mayder," the husky lawyer revealed, sipping his tea.

"The redhead?" Hiccup checked. "Interesting. She was hitting on me and passing some very blatant hints when I saw her at the Great Hall and at Eret's."

"She's divorced twice and has had a string of lovers, ending each affair enriched," his friend told him dryly. "You seem to be the big prize on offer now-and she has definitely got her eye on you."

"Which would annoy Eret no end," Hiccup mused. "Can you contact her and invite her to Dinner."

"Here?" Fishlegs asked, his tone disapproving.

"Harbour Heights," Hiccup told him. "I want a table with the best view over the Harbour. Could you arrange it, please? Maybe…tomorrow night?"

"You know she may have plans?" Fishlegs asked him pointedly, frowning. Hiccup nodded.

"I want to see how keen she really is," he explained. "How much does she want me? Who will she blow off to spend time with Tallon Fury?"

"Ingen…" Fishlegs said quietly. "I know you're my friend but…I am concerned. What will Heather think that you're going out with some gold-digging divorcee?"

"I'll explain," Hiccup told him, running his hands through his hair. "Look, the last thing I want is to hurt Heather…"

"And this other woman, Atali? What about her?" Fishlegs asked. "You realise your intervention may damage her relationship with Eret?"

"A relationship based on betrayal and mutual self-interest," Hiccup corrected him. "Neither of them feels any genuine affection for the other and though there will be disappointment, this is not a lasting relationship. And yes, I know that both will be hurt…but both have profited from the misery of others so no, Fish-I won't feel guilty. You always have the option not to help me. I have never asked you to do anything you feel uncomfortable doing-and I am not about to start now." The husky man stared into the emerald eyes, abruptly reminded of the almost-skeletal man who they had hauled out of frigid Sullen Sea, a man inches from death who had clearly escaped from the worst prison on the planet and who had saved their lives more than once. And who had never taken anything for granted, no matter how far and fast his star had risen. A man who had always respected their integrity and choices.

"I know," the husky man sighed. "But I promised I would help you. And I will be here when it's done, no matter how it ends. I just hope you can live with yourself afterwards." Hiccup gave a small smile.

"And that's why I need you, my friend," he murmured. "The offer stands, Fish. And if you feel I'm crossing any lines-please continue to tell me. Because I trust you, Fish. You're one of the most decent and principled men I know-and I think I may need that to anchor me as I go on through this." Fishlegs rose, his hand patting the billionaire's shoulder absently.

"I'll make the calls," he said. "Try to get some rest, Ingen. You'll need your wits about you." Watching him go, Hiccup sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"Thank you, my friend," he murmured. "But neither of these will suspect how they're being manipulated. My other targets are more self-aware and dangerous…which is why I have laid a trap for them…"

oOo

Ryker Grimborn glanced up with an irritated growl as his assistant knocked on the door of his office and walked in. Looking up from his screen, the older Grimborn brother scowled.

"I don't recall inviting you in, Sjonberg," he growled, eyeing up the buff man in the khaki uniform of his personal security company. Swallowing nervously, the man saluted.

"I think you should hear this, sir," he said, his pale blue eyes darting nervously under his buff beret. Sitting back, Ryker folded his arms. He was wearing a khaki General's uniform, the 'sword impaling a dragon' badge of his company emblazoned over his heart.

"And why?" he asked cynically.

"You asked for intelligence and surveillance on Tallon Fury," Sjonberg said and Ryker sat up abruptly.

"Go on," he said, leaning forward over the desk. Sjonberg paused.

"Fury attended a funeral three days ago," he said. Ryker frowned.

"Funeral?" he murmured. "But that means…he knew the deceased." Nodding, Sjonberg continued.

"I used our analyst to interrogate the records," he explained. "The funeral was for a man called Gordon 'Gobber' Belcher, originally a Berk native but he left the island over thirty years ago on a quest for the fabled Treasure fo Eyja Nott." Ryker scoffed.

"Another fable up there with the Crown of Odin and the Hammer of Thor," he sneered but Sjonberg shook his head.

"Much as I defer to your superior knowledge, sir, the Treasure is believed to be real," he explained. "There have been archaeologists and adventurers searching for the Treasure for over two centuries. There are numerous historical sources that prove the existence and a number of genuine locations that have been suggested as the final resting place of Grimbeard's Treasure."

"And yet…no one has ever found it," Ryker pointed out sarcastically.

"Our analysts found that Belcher was found on a remote island," Sjonberg reported. "The details are classified-there is evidence that Fury himself ensured they are shrouded in secrecy-but he was buried in an isolated point in the Cemetery. The ceremony was also not advertised and there was no announcement in the papers or the official Berk Registrar's website. But there is a suspicion because the coffin that was used was lead lined and welded shut. I think…it is believed that he found the Treasure." Ryker snorted.

"And how would Fury know this man?" he asked sharply.

"Well, Belcher was convicted of grave-robbing, theft, desecration, manslaughter and murder," Sjonberg reported. "He was sentenced to Jotunheim but the Justice Department records also indicate that sometime-around seven years ago-he bought his way out. And the only way he could do that…"

"…is if he already possessed an immense fortune," Ryker realised. "That fat idiot Alvin! He should never have let him go-or if he did, he should have got me to tail him so we could have taken what he had acquired!"

"Can't you ask the Governor?" Sjonberg asked but Ryker growled audibly.

"Jotunheim was closed down by Executive Presidential Order," he revealed. "The whole place was raided, every prisoner was relocated, the staff were all arrested and imprisoned pending trial on Dragon Island and the Governor and all his records gave vanished. Word is that a Special Investigator has been appointed and is running the investigation. Alvin is facing several life sentences for his crimes…and it's likely he'll take a deal to turn informant to mitigate his own sentence."

"Is the company exposed?" Sjonberg asked but Ryker shook his head.

"No," he murmured. "I have recruits from Jotunheim-yourself included-but there is nothing to link them to this organisation." Then he frowned. "But for Belcher to get himself out means he had to provide proof that he actually had the money. And for him to be buried here in such a manner…"

"Implies that he has been buried with the gold he sought all his life-or the clues to his Treasure," Sjonberg mused. "A sentimental act by someone who knew the man and who doesn't need the money."

"You think there are clues in his coffin?" Ryker murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His dark eyes inspected his assistant, his most trusted man. He was certain the man would not talk-but would expect a handsome bonus when they located the fortune.

"Why else would you have a coffin that cannot be Xrayed and welded shut?" his assistant asked, his pale blue eyes bright. Ryker sat up decisively.

"Tell our analysts to keep probing his connection to Fury," he ordered. "The First Minister needs to know where he sprang from and who he really is-and this is the first hint we have found anywhere about his past. And get a small team together with excavation and cutting equipment and meet me at the barracks at 0145. Tonight, we will investigate the coffin and find out whether or not this man found the Treasure." Sjonberg saluted and scurried off as Ryker sat back in his chair. By rights, he should inform his brother of the development-but Ryker, the older brother, had always resented the primacy of his younger sibling and this was a gilt-edged chance to acquire untold riches all for himself. He gave a small smile.

"This one's just for me," he murmured.


	25. Turning The Screw

**Twenty-Five: Turning the Screw**

The view over the Harbour was spectacular from _Harbour Heights_ , the only three Michelin-starred restaurant in the Archipelago. Perched on the very edge of the cliffs that loomed over Berk Harbour, the floor to ceiling windows displayed the magnificent vista and allowed all the patrons to enjoy the most spectacular backdrop to their meal. The restaurant was constructed in true Nordic style, minimalist with clean lines, neutral colours and quiet ambiance. A piano was playing softly in the background and the white-clad waiting staff glided elegantly between the tables, delivering drinks and food and removing used plates with precision and efficiency.

Hiccup glanced down over the Harbour and felt a small smile lift his lips, seeing the myriad of gold and white lights circle the water's edge, reflecting in the black waters. A quartet of ships were moored, their lights outlining their shapes and a cruise liner was pulling out of the Harbour though the deep water channel, gliding in an exaggerated 'S' through the sea stacks as she headed on her way to the next island on her itinerary. Wishing for a second that he was back on the Barf'n'Belch, sailing from port to port at the whim of the twins and pursuing their largely unsuccessful but fun careers as smugglers, Hiccup pulled his attention back to the present and lifted his glass of champagne to the women sitting opposite him.

Atali was looking smug. It was the only way to describe it. Her bright copper hair was wound in an elegant knot, high on her head and her green eyes glittered with triumph. A heavy diamond necklace glittered at her throat and a shimmering silver silk strapless dress sheathed her attractive form, the low cut front threatening to reveal more than Hiccup wished to see. Her manicured nails tinged on the crystal as she toyed with her own flute before she lifted it and gently clinked it against his.

"To us," she breathed in a sultry voice, her eyes searching his face. Dressed in a slim-fit black Tuxedo, black dress pants, patent shoes white shirt and deep red bow tie, his eyes were concealed by mirror glasses with plain lenses, for his excellent vision needed no augmentation. However, though the lenses had no tint, the mirror coating meant that Atali still couldn't stare into his eyes. Now he was embarked on the pathway to his vengeance, he was absolutely paranoid that he would be recognised and he was taking no chances.

"Good health," he murmured, rejecting the presumption on her part. She smiled and sipped the dry bubbly liquid, her blood red lips curving in a small smile.

"Here's hoping," she murmured as the waiter refilled their glasses. Iced sparkling water was poured as the first course arrived. Hiccup had decided to order them both the Tasting Menu and as the first course arrived, he peered at a marble square with a few strategically placed pieces of cured fish with small pickled vegetables and micro-shoots. The waiter theatrically sprayed an aerosol over them, instantly enswathing them with the scents of the sea. Nodding his thanks, Hiccup watched the man retreat as Atali took another sip of her champagne.

"I'm wondering," she murmured as they began their starter. "Why did you ask me out?" Hiccup dabbed his mouth with his napkin and frowned.

"You seemed very eager," he reminded her. "In fact, you couldn't have passed any more obvious hints unless you had handed me your diary with a date circled and marked 'Going out with Fury'." She chuckled.

"You can't blame a girl for trying," she pouted. "After all, you are ferociously handsome, mysterious, rich, unattached…you are literally the Holy Grail of any unmarried woman in Berk…" He managed a lopsided smile.

"Wow," he murmured. "People really are desperate here." Atali's eyes widened and she swallowed her slice of picked radish.

"Berk is a small community and a man such as yourself…is a unique opportunity," she admitted.

"And yet, word on the street is that you are in a relationship with Eret Eretson," he pointed out, resting his cutlery on his empty slab. She shrugged.

"We are in a mutually beneficial arrangement," she translated.

"Meaning?"

"I get lots of sex and presents and he gets someone to boast to, shower gifts on and fuck so he feels like a big man and a success," she told him bluntly, her eyes hardening.

"I was under the impression he was married with two children," Hiccup pointed out mildly, sipping his champagne.

"And she abrogates her responsibilities," Atali hissed. "They have no sex life…well, not unless he's very drunk and enforces his rights. The children are both disrespectful and disappointing and he only stays with her for her political value."

"Divorced Island Councillor not being a hit at the polls?" he guessed, mulling over her words. The implications of what Atali was casually revealing made him inwardly cringe-both that it seemed Eret was not above forcing Astrid when he was in the mood-and that Atali seemed to think such behaviour was acceptable. And though he was still convinced that Astrid had betrayed him and chosen Eret…she seemed to be paying for that betrayal as well. Married to a violent, abusive, womanising husband, her life wasn't a picnic…but he would have swapped his decade in Jotunheim for it any day. Atali nodded.

"Not at all," she confirmed. "Berk is an insular and rather hypocritical society. Outsiders are shunned, divorce is considered a definite disadvantage and people want their elected officials as paragons of virtue."

"Even though Eret is clearly a womaniser with a drinking problem and financial issues?" the billionaire asked astutely.

"You noticed?" Atali purred.

"Not subtle," Hiccup confirmed. "But you never decided to make a bid for him?"

"Why?" Atali asked archly as the second course, a shellfish broth with sea vegetables, was served. "A divorce would be messy because she would fight for her children and half of what he has-which would seriously diminish his worth. I've already been married so I'm not about to do it again for Eret! And he is not someone I'd want to spend too much time with. He's fine when he's being nice and trying-but I see how he treats his wife and my life doesn't include being shouted at or expected to be his servant! And he is a man with a short attention span. I prefer to be the one in charge and deciding when it ends."

"And where to look next for your fun," Hiccup added dryly. She leaned forward, ensuring that her low cut dress revealed more to him than it was meant to.

"I can sniff out the alpha," she murmured in a low voice. "And you are definitely the alpha on this island."

"I suspect First Minister Grimborn would dispute that," 'Fury' told her with a smile.

"Viggo has made it clear that he is not interested in dallying with a mistress," Atali revealed lightly, the edge to her the revealing she had been disappointed at the revelation. Hiccup got the impression that Atali considered the post of wife of the First Minister would be a prize worth pursuing through marriage. "But you seem to be unattached. Are you lonely?"

"Maybe?" he teased her gently. "I have my team but…"

"Is your PA not that kind of personal assistant?" she probed and his eyes hardened behind his glasses, though he schooled his face to remain neutral. There was a callousness in her attitude that had his hackles raised, a sharp contrast to the kindness and genuine decency of his friends. He knew which he would rather be spending the evening with-even though Tuff would probably be trying to befriend one of the butterflied langoustines.

"No," he said. "I am currently between relationships…" As he had silently predicted, her eyes sparkled in sudden eagerness.

"You know, there is nothing in the gossip columns on your personal life," she pointed out as their plates were cleared again. A fresh course of mackerel liver pate with lingonberry chutney and rye toast was served immediately. He smeared the pinkish pate on his bread.

"I prefer my privacy," he told her with a small smile.

"So what was she like, your previous girlfriend?" she asked, her brows furrowed as she tried to assess his preferences and he gave a slight smile. His instincts to avoid Atali as a partner were being reinforced the further they got into the date, her unsubtle probing and obvious intentions very different to what he had shared with Astrid… He blinked. That was a lifetime ago with someone who had given up on him and married the man she and he knew had been responsible for Hiccup's imprisonment.

"I prefer not to talk about it," he said firmly and then forced himself to smile. "So-tell me about yourself, Atali. What do you do for fun here in Berk?" Atali smiled and her eyes said _You_. She sipped her champagne and set back to continue on her favourite subject: herself.

An hour and three quarters later, Hiccup was sitting back in his chair, sipping his black coffee and staring at the woman. She was witting and amusing and full of her own opinions, a tendency to be cruel and self-absorbed and dismissive of those she believed were not her social equal. And it was obvious she loathed and despised Astrid and her children. Quietly, Hiccup sipped his Benedictine and calmly handed his card to the waiter who wanted to settle the bill. He was paying, of course-what was the point of going out with a billionaire if you went Dutch?-and Atali had become more blatant in her attempts to seduce him. Currently, she was running her foot up and down his leg and he was trying to keep his face straight, for it was his prosthetic leg. He was looking forward to explaining that he was wearing a brace due to a 'skiing accident' if she realised her efforts weren't getting the desired effect. But instead she smiled at him.

"Are you going to sweep me off my feet?" she asked, her speech slightly slurred. He shook his head.

"No," he said quietly as he signed the slip and slid his card back into his pocket, after tipping the waiter handsomely. Her eyes widened in shock.

"Aww…you were so perfect," she pouted, her eyes still appealing to him. He gave a small smile.

"I never said there was no hope," he pointed out teasingly. "But I'm a traditional guy so I would always wait until at least after the first date…" Her eyes brightened.

"You mean our next date?" she asked calculatingly. He rested his napkin on the table, neatly folded and smiled, rising to his feet.

"Maybe," he said, not promising anything. She rose as well, gathering her jewelled purse and falling in step beside him as they headed for the door. He gestured to the car waiting. "Where do you want to go?"

"Wherever you are going," she said immediately, reaching for his hand-but he gave a small smile.

"I have a private engagement after this," he told her but she immediately draped her arms around his neck and leaned close.

"With me,' she murmured and kissed him sensuously-and he responded, dropping his hands to her waist, pulling her close and kissing her thoroughly. When he pulled back, she was breathless and smiling, her hand rising to her lips and touching them hesitantly.

"My driver will take you where you need to go," he said, walking her to the car and opening the door. She slid in, looking up at him.

"Next time," she murmured as he closed the door with a small wave and then stepped back as Thuggory instantly pulled away, leaving him staring at the receding tail lights-before he walked to the back car park where his copter was just landing. Ducking under the still swirling rotors, he pulled the door open and dived in, waving to Cami to lift off as soon as the door was closed-and only then could he slump back in the seat, giving a relieved sigh. She chuckled from the pilot's seat as he pulled a headset on.

"Tough night?" she teased him and he nodded, pulling his glasses off and running his hands over his face.

"I thought she might jump me at the table, she was getting so desperate!" he confessed, closing his eyes. The world was spinning gently.

"I'm sure you manfully fought her off," Cami commented, banking gently. "You're drunk again, aren't you?"

"Very," he murmured. "The liqueur was a bad move…but I'm supposed to be a billionaire bon viveur, not a guy with a secret past and friends who would feed me weird barbecue and pop tarts!" He sighed. "Did they get the shots?" She nodded.

"Our photographer has confirmed some fantastic pictures of her eating your face,' she confirmed. "I think they're on their way round the gossip sites as we speak. You are hot news and you are hardly ever photographed…"

"Good," he murmured. "Now let's go home so I can get two aspirin, a pint of water and merciless teasing from the twins…" Cami nodded and adjusted their course.

"As you wish, sir," she smirked.

oOo

"I hear you have been engaging in nocturnal activities, brother," Viggo said, looking up over his desk at Ryker as the older brother sat arrogantly back in his seat. A scowl twisted Ryker's hard features.

"Word gets around fast," he commented sarcastically. Laying his pen down, Viggo glared at him.

"Nothing happens on this island that I am not aware of, brother," he reminded his sibling, exasperation edging his voice. "I thought you were aware of that."

"And I thought that I was free to expand my business activities without interference," Ryker growled. "That was the deal…"

"I never recall giving you carte blanche to undermine my authority or enrich yourself at my expense," Viggo told him dryly.

"I doubt this is at your expense," Ryker told him gruffly. "Because I am changing nothing that you actually own or are owed."

"Yet," Viggo corrected him. "So what did you find?" Looking smug, Ryker folded his arms.

"The coffin was a lead coffin, welded shut," he revealed.

"Unusual," the First Minister agreed. "I presume that was no bar to your ambition?"

"Of course not," Ryker scoffed. "We opened the coffin. There was a shrouded skeleton and with it, an ancient gold coin and a map." Viggo leaned forward.

"Gold?" he asked sharply.

"Twenty Four carat," Ryker confirmed. "I ran it through the Assay Office. Twice."

"And the map?" Viggo asked.

"It's pretty difficult to read but is of an island I don't recognise…" Ryker admitted. "But it has a location marked clearly on it…" Viggo snorted.

"Really, Ryker-I would have thought that you were far too old to get excited about a treasure map," he scoffed. "Those lunatics scrabble around in the dirt for something that probably doesn't exist while we both have ample opportunities to enrich ourselves on this island." The older brother bridled at the implication.

"And only a fool rejects the chance to gain such a prize," he sneered. "The map reads 'EYJA NOTT'." Viggo started laughing.

"Now surely you must see that this is a hoax!" he scorned but Ryker glared at him.

"The man who was buried was convicted of theft of historical artefacts, stealing a book from the Meathead Library, desecration of sacred burial sites, murder…" he retorted.

"Sounds like a man we should have recruited," Viggo quipped.

"And he was found with a coin that was clearly part of an ancient treasure trove," he continued. "You may be short-sighted enough to turn down this opportunity but I am going to pursue it."

"You do know the treasure hunting community on the Archipelago are generally a murderous and secretive bunch?" Viggo asked him pointedly.

"I have a map-and our IT specialist can find out which island it is of," Ryker told him angrily. "Sit in your office and sneer, Viggo-but I am going to see where this leads me. And when I am sipping champagne from a gold goblet, we'll see which of us looks the fool!"

"And how did you locate this man anyway?" Viggo asked him directly. Ryker smiled smugly.

"Fury," he revealed, causing Viggo to sit up straighter. "He was at this man's funeral. He knew him." The First Minister's face darkened in anger.

"And you didn't think to tell me this fact?" he asked angrily.

"I'm telling you now," Ryker sneered. "Now you're interested, hmm?"

"I am interested in any intelligence on this man-because it may provide some insight into this mysterious tycoon who has moved to our island and who seems to effortlessly thwart our designs," he snapped. "I want to know everything about the dead man…and what his connection is to Fury. When we know that, we can finally uncover who Tallon Fury really is-and find out if he is a potential ally-or a man who has to meet an unfortunate accident."

oOo

Astrid had just returned from her daily run when she heard Eret return home-and she was instantly on alert, for he was usually never home at this time. Automatically, her eyes flicked over the hall and straightened a photograph of the couple, taken at their wedding-and then looked up to meet her husband's furious eyes.

"How was your day?" she asked, knowing there was no point in attempting to defer the argument.

"Disastrous," he spat. "Profits are down, the freight business is quiet and the Casino made a loss last month."

 _Not helped by your gambling away tens of thousands a week in your private games,_ she thought, though she schooled her face to give nothing away. He looked at her and then sneered.

"You look dishevelled," he told her coldly.

"I've just gotten back from my run," she explained. "You said you would be out until this evening." He stared at her angrily.

"I expect you to be ready for my return at any time!" he snarled. "I provide everything-this house, your clothes, the very food you eat. All I expect is you to be here waiting for my presence!"

"This isn't the seventeenth century!" she retorted. "You know I have a life as well."

"You have what I give you!" he snarled. Then she stared at him.

"Has your mistress rejected you?" she asked him pointedly, seeing his face suffuse with rage and realising that she had hit the target.

"That bitch was out last night with Fury," he spat, looking around for a servant. "What's a man got to do to get a drink round here?" Briskly, the blonde walked through to the lounge and opened the drinks cabinet, deftly retrieving a heavy lead crystal cut glass tumbler and half-filling with mead, then shovelling in a handful of ice cubes from the chilled store.

"Here," she said, pushing it into his hand and he threw a large slug back, before plopping into the oak leather Chesterfield closest to the fire.

"I mean, I have lavished her with gifts and treated her like a goddess," he murmured. "Why would she betray me like that?"

"He's got deeper pockets?" Astrid suggested, still standing by the drinks cabinet. Eret gave a growl-and then flung his glass at her. She ducked, cringing away as the glass shattered against the wall, shards flying everywhere and mead splashing her.

"That bastard!" he roared, lurching to his feet. "He flies in, flashes his money and everyone falls over him!"

"Including you-until you got what you wanted from him!" Astrid pointed out, wiping mead from her face.

"He was supposed to lend them to me!" he snapped. "Bastard made me sign a contract-not that I intend him to ever see a penny!" She sighed.

"He may be cleverer than you," she retorted. "I expect he has very expensive lawyers who will pursue what he is owed."

"And I have the First Minister and local courts in my pocket!" Eret sneered back. "He'll never see a penny!" Then he looked at her. "You fancy him?" She shook her head.

"He's reserved and secretive," she replied coolly.

"No point-Atali's beaten you to him," Eret taunted her. "Seems like she's always ahead of you."

"Took her long enough to see through you," Astrid replied shortly.

"You agreed to marry me," Eret snapped, closing to within a few feet.

"The difference was that I knew what I was getting, Eret," she told him honestly. "And I never loved you."

The backhand that floored her wasn't unexpected and she had learned to roll with the blows after the years but she was still breathing hard as she raised her head, the red weal livid against her pale skin. She scrambled away, never taking her eyes from him because she had learned his temper was rarely satisfied with just the one hit.

"You were keen enough to marry me for what you could get out of it," he told her crushingly. "A whore in all but name."

"No, a fool," she replied shakily. "But as you and your friends had taken everything else from me, I had to make a choice. I do not regret what I did."

"And yet you lied to me," he threatened her.

"You lied to everyone," she retorted. "Including the judge. We both know the truth."

"And there's no one who will hear it-or who cares," he sneered, backing her into a corner. "And don't think you could just walk out on me. I'll fight to ensure that you get nothing-and never see the children again."

"They're mine!" she hissed fiercely, her eyes flashing.

"Whose name is on the birth certificates as father?" he shouted in her face. "They are mine!"

"And yet you despise them!" she shouted back. "You constantly undermine Zeph despite her being an incredibly intelligent and artistic young woman! She should be able to finish High School this year, a year early because she's accrued so many credits! She has a handful of offers already for prestigious Art Institutions-and you want to deny her any of that because of your Medieval attitudes! And Fink…"

"His name is ERET!" he yelled.

"Fink just wants your approval, wants the support and love of his father," she argued.

"He'll get it when he does what he's ordered and follows the path I have set for him!" Eret told her.

"It's his race in a couple of days in the Island Championships!" she asked him. "Can't you at least come and support him?" But the look in his face gave her all the answer she knew she would get.

"I have more important things to do than waste my time standing in a field, watching my son make a fool of himself!" he snarled.

"But…"

"You expect me to stand around with the riff-raff?" he sneered. "Stand there and cheer all you want. But tell him from me that if he loses, I won't hear another word about his stupid obsession-and his bike will be sold. Is that clear?'

"But?"

"IS THAT CLEAR?"

Despite herself, Astrid backed up a pace and nodded. Younger Astrid was screaming at her to retort back and leave the man but older Astrid, who had survived seventeen turbulent years of marriage to Eret, silenced her. A furious argument with Eret who had clearly already been drinking and was in a filthy mood was just a good way to end up bruised and battered and probably raped because he could overpower her through sheer size and strength and though she was brave and determined, she wasn't invincible. And she would never leave and abandon her children to him.

"Yes," she murmured. Eret glared at her.

"Get me another drink then clear that up!" he ordered, turning away abruptly. "And then, I have a task for you…"


	26. Race Day

**Twenty Six: Race Day**

It was a grey, cloudy day with occasional drizzle and a variable breeze as Astrid stood with Zephyr in the relatives' area, waiting for the races to start. There were multiple age classes competing and as they waited, the under twelves finished their race, little kids driving furiously and screaming in excitement as they completed the course. Zephyr was bouncing with excitement, alternating with anxiety for her brother as he prepared his bike and went through his checks. Astrid had used concealer over the welt from Eret's blow and she was wrapped in a light anorak over a pale blue blouse, her dark jeans and boots functional for the muddy ground. Zephyr was similarly dressed, a light green tee-shirt under her anorak with faded jeans and brown ankle boots.

"I hope he wins," she murmured to her mother as Astrid took her hand.

"So do I," she added, recalling Eret's threats. "He's been practising hard. As long as he does his best, it's all he can do-and he should win."

"Excuse me-is this spot free?" a voice politely interrupted them and Astrid looked up-to meet her own surprised gaze in Tallon Fury's mirror sunglasses. The man was smiling lightly, an odd familiarity tugging at her memory at the expression. He was casually garbed in a deep brown leather jacket, red shirt, black jeans and heavy brown boots and his handsome face was relaxed. Astrid blinked and regained her composure.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in shock as she heard a call. Fink came running up, his eyes sparking with delight.

"You came!" he explained, stopping at the group. Hiccup clasped his hand and smiled, seeing the boy's leathers cleaned and his body taut with adrenaline. There was a number 1 stuck to his back and leg as defending champion.

"I promised, Fink," he said. "I want to see the results of all your hard work!" Fink grinned, his emerald eyes glittering with excitement.

"I'll do my best!" he said then looked over at his family. "You don't mind, do you, Mom?" She shook her head.

"Of course not," she said.

"Is Dad coming?" he asked and in the beat that Astrid paused, they all knew the answer.

"I'm sorry, Fink-he's got an important meeting that he couldn't reschedule…" she tried to explain but the young man's shoulders slumped.

"It's okay," he sighed, causing Hiccup to really pity the young man, knowing the pangs of disappointment when the parent you really wanted to attend couldn't make it. Of course, his father had always been apologetic and told his son himself, rather than leaving others to do it and Hiccup had understood the burden of being the Mayor…but it still hurt.

"He contacted me and asked me to stand in his place," he said suddenly. "Even though he didn't know I was already coming as your guest." Green eyes widening, Fink's face lit with a smile.

"He did remember," he murmured, his tone relieved. "Thank Thor…" Casting a sideways glance at the man, Astrid nodded with a smile.

"You are going to be awesome," she told him, grasping her shoulders and kissing his cheek. "Now go out there and kill 'em!" The boy grinned.

"Is there anything you aren't competitive in, Mom?" he teased her and she smiled.

"Nope-I am literally the most competitive person ever," she reminded him.

"It's true," Zephyr told the billionaire. "It used to be really competitive at Snoggletog. Whatever game we played-Snap, Ludo, Monopoly, Operation-Mom was the most competitive one!" Memories hitting him like a sledgehammer, Hiccup nodded, stealing a glance at the blonde and recalling how competitive she had been about everything.

"That sounds fun," he commented. "Not really a very competitive guy myself." Fink grinned.

"I seriously take after Mom," he admitted. "Monopoly used to get quite tense at Snoggletog when we were playing."

"Yeah…" Zephyr murmured wistfully and Astrid immediately wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulders.

"It's okay," she murmured as Hiccup moved closer and leaned to speak quietly to the girl.

"You can join me in the 'bankrupt' zone any day," he whispered and her eyes widened, a small smile lifting her lips.

"Really?" she asked, her eyes shining. He nodded.

"Always the first to be bankrupt," he admitted. "My girlfriend used to be merciless…"

"Just like Mom," Zephyr admitted. "Though Dad always went broke first. He never took it well…" Her face fell and Astrid gave the girl's shoulders another sideways hug.

"Gotta go," Fink announced and Astrid hugged him while Hiccup offered the young man a hand once more. Grinning, the young man ran off as the little group stared after him before Astrid's eyes flicked up to inspect the billionaire.

"Why did you lie?" she demanded as he sighed, the humour falling from his face.

"Because I could see how much it meant to him and maybe, believing his father cares what happens may give him that extra edge," he offered as her blue eyes widened.

"How do you know my son anyway?" she pressed as Zephyr shuffled her feet, for she already knew the answer. Hiccup grinned.

"Simple. I caught him trespassing on my land, practising for his race," he said and she blinked.

"He didn't…" she murmured. He nodded.

"My friends caught him-but they reckon he's really good so I allowed him to continue practising-provided he checks in with us when he arrives and leaves, so we can look for him if he seems to be taking too long," he told her. "He's a good kid…but he believes his father hates him." Astrid pressed her lips together.

"They're both stubborn and don't listen," she admitted. 'But Eret is older, larger and controls the money…so Fink is usually the loser. And his father isn't interested in anything but what he wants the boy to do. And island motocross champion isn't it." Nodding, Hiccup glanced over to where Fink was pulling his helmet on and mounting his bike.

"That's a shame-because he's a bright, brave young man who is very determined and never gives up," he commented. "I've been giving him some pointers on his bike maintenance because I am an engineer. The twins have been taking him scrambling and teaching him almost everything they know. Any man would be proud to have a son like him." Astrid stared over at the black leather-clad shape and sighed.

"Except Eret," she murmured and then blinked. "I really am grateful that you came," she added, looking back at the man. "It really means so much to my son." He grinned, the familiarity gnawing at her.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," he assured her as the bikers lined up. There were cameras round the course and a large screen so the crowd could see the contestants' progress even when they were out of sight in the forest. Fink's slender shape was the slightest on the line, with all the others bigger and buffer than him and all of them certainly older as well. The engines gunned and seven bodies tensed as the starter stood forward.

"Three laps of the course, first across the line wins," he announced. "On your marks, get set…"

The gun fired.

All the competitors raced off the line, heading directly up the muddy, rutted slope towards the tree line. Astrid and Zephyr were watching, yelling encouragement as Fink pulled ahead, leading the group and riding accurately. Eyes narrowing, Hiccup shifted his weight slightly onto his right leg, for his left was cramping slightly as he saw Fink jump over a strategically placed log and skid round a corner as the track narrowed. The others jostled for position, yelling and cursing at one another as they fought for dominance. Undeterred, Finn scrambled up the steep slope through the mature firs and them zipped along the ridge, mud kicking up as as his tyres slewed. He bounced over another tree trunk and then skidded down the slope, accelerating towards the start/finish line.

The girls were cheering in excitement and Astrid was shouting advice and instructions, for she could see what Fink couldn't-that the others were massing behind him, closing rapidly on the slope. But the young man pulled away as he hit the flat and zipped past the spectators, gunning the engine. As Hiccup watched, competitor number four, a very buff man on a black bike with no markings at all, headed directly for Fink but the younger man pulled away, his speed on the flat superior.

"He's doing great," he commented to Astrid, who nodded, her eyes filled with pride and worry.

"He's out there to be shot at," she told him shortly.

"Or he's in control of the race and his own destiny," he replied, his eyes fixed on the lithe shape that sped up the slope again.

"They're tracking him, letting him be the pathfinder," she said, her eyes locked on the screen. "There are couple who are just coasting…"

"He's riding the best race I've ever seen," he commented as she looked briefly up into his face. There was a small smile on his lips.

"And how many races have you seen?" she asked him dryly. He rubbed the back of his neck with a self-conscious smile.

"Um…this is the first," he confessed and she chuckled, the feeling of familiarity growing. Brusquely, she crushed it.

"Fink is very skilled but he is reckless and his ability to think strategically is limited," she revealed.

"Translated: he's a teen," Hiccup murmured as number three pulled alongside Fink. Glancing over, Fink slewed over the path and dropped back a length. Immediately, he redoubled his efforts and cut the corner, flying over the dip in the path and accelerating over the jump to land alongside the leader. As they surged forward together, number four pulled alongside and slammed into the other rider, sending him flying. Fink swerved and flew down the slope, his wheels not touching the muddy ground as the other rider skidded through the patch of empty air he had been in. Then he hit the flat and accelerated away.

"That was close," Zeph gasped, her hands pressed to her mouth.

"Too close," Hiccup murmured, seeing the felled rider scramble up and grab his bike, then get up and go after them. He was a long way back but there was a round of applause at his determination.

"It looked deliberate," Astrid added. "The rules are that it's no contact."

"Tell that to Number Four," Hiccup commented. "He was biding his time in the first circuit but he's really playing dirty now…" As they watched, Four barged Rider Number Six aside and accelerated towards the shape of Fink out front. A surge of pride filled him as he saw how well the young man was riding, his determination as he surged ahead, skipping over obstacles and slewing along narrow, winding paths and through the trees until they reached the final jump and drop. With a whoop, he flew through the air over the final jump and headed out into the air.

Four flew out of nowhere and this time the other rider slammed into Fink's shape. He gave a cry as a wheel glanced his helmet and he spun away from his bike, falling down the slope like a rag doll, end over end and finally landing in a crumpled heap at the base of the drop and lying still.

"FINK!" Astrid and Zephyr screamed at the same time but Hiccup had already vaulted the fence and was pounding towards the fallen boy even as the klaxon sounded to suspend the race. The remaining competitors instantly stopped at the top of the slope-all but Number Four, who rocketed down and slewed round, heading for the fallen Fink. Pounding towards the motionless shape, Hiccup stared at the rider, who was bearing down on Fink and without thinking, he grabbed the fallen bike and threw it at the approaching rider, causing him to swerve away from Fink. Breathing hard and feeling pain twinge through his stump, Hiccup reached the boy, dropping to his knees and absently noting he would regret the run later since he wasn't wearing his running prosthetic. Carefully, he turned the young man over and saw he was still breathing but completely limp. He pressed a finger carefully to his neck, feeling the slow rise and fall of the pulse under his fingers.

The approaching roar of an engine alerted him and he looked up to see Number Four had swung round and was driving straight at them. Cringing, the billionaire realised that this was a deliberate attempt on Fink's life by someone who should never have been allowed in the race.

"It's okay," he murmured as shots sounded and Snotlout and Thuggory walked forward, firing expertly at the rider. Bullets zinged round him, ricocheting off his helmet, mudguards and burying in a leg. Abruptly, he peeled away and shot off back into the forest as paramedics ran forward, followed by Hiccup's bodyguards. But the billionaire was entirely focussed on the unconscious young man, whose head he was cradling in his lap. Efficiently, they moved him onto a stretcher and cautiously removed his helmet, keeping his head stable and fitting a hard collar before securing him into the stretcher. Hiccup moved back, seeing the ashen face. Unconscious, the boy looked much younger and vulnerable, stabbing a protective impulse through his heart. Astrid and Zephyr had arrived and were distraught, so Hiccup found himself holding them back and murmuring reassurances while allowing the paramedics to do their work.

"Where are you taking him?" he asked as they prepped him for transfer. The head paramedic sighed.

"Berk General-but it's forty minutes from this location and only has a basic emergency unit," they said. Frowning, Hiccup fished out his phone.

"Can you please bring the chopper to my location, Cami?" he asked shortly.

"On it, boss," was the immediate reply.

"My helicopter is quicker-and there's plenty of room for Fink and his family," he explained. "But may I make a suggestion? That we go to the best place for him?" The paramedic looked up. "I can get him to the Neurosurgical Assessment Unit at Blessed Freya University Hospital on Dragon Island." They looked up and Astrid stiffened.

"Mr Fury, I…" she began but he shook his head as the sounds of the helicopter coming into land sounded, drowning out almost everything.

"Look-I'll explain en route," he shouted. "Get in! Zephyr-you too! These guys are the absolute experts and he needs to best care." The paramedics were already loading Fink onto the copter, the spacious interior providing plenty of room for the patient, paramedics, family-and the owner. Hiccup turned to Snotlout. "Snot, I'm sorry but…" Understanding, the stocky man gave a smile.

"The twins will moan but Thug and I will keep 'em in line," he promised. "Try not to get into trouble without me!" For a second, Hiccup rested his hand on his cousin's shoulder.

"You too," he said seriously. "I mean it. Last time, Tuff…" Snotlout's smile fell.

"I remember," he said grumpily. "Took me weeks to grow it out. Off you go, boss! Cami won't go without you." Nodding, Hiccup scrambled in and slammed the door, pulling headphones on as they lifted off. He gestured and gave the girls sets as well, showing them where they could plug them in, flipping them onto a private three way channel as they accelerated and sped across the coast and directly towards the centre of the Archipelago Government, Education and Legislation. Astrid sat back, one hand possessively holding her daughter's. Zephyr was half turned round, gripping her brother's hand tightly, her eyes locked on his pallid, slack face. Astrid looked up at their host and saviour.

"Okay, spill!" she demanded. Hiccup inclined his head slightly.

"Boy, you are direct," he commented.

"You said you would explain," she said. "Look, that is my son lying there and we're not heading to the nearest hospital…"

"No, we're heading to the best unit for him, the one that can provide the care and surveillance he needs," he corrected her. "He'll be there half an hour after the incident, meaning he's still in the 'golden hour' for trauma. And head injuries are treacherous. A couple of years ago, Ruff-one of my associates, Miss Barf-was involved in a biking accident. She fell and hit her head. Her twin found her immediately but she was clearly badly concussed and needed expert care. The Neurosurgical unit assessed her, identified her injuries and used cutting edge technologies, anti-apoptotic agents, cooling, drugs to remove the swelling and experimental healing agents to ensure she made a full recovery. In fact, the only lasting effect was that the surgeons permanently banned her from head banging to her favourite thrash metal. Honestly, the way she moans, you'd think it was my fault…"

Astrid blinked. There was a familiarity to his words, an honesty that had been missing in his previous conversations and she found herself immediately believing him. She glanced over to the motionless supine shape of her son, his face covered by an oxygen mask, a hard collar around his neck and straps restraining him in position on the stretcher.

"And you decided this was best for my son because…?' she asked. He blinked.

"Because he's a friend-and a man should look after his friends, even if it puts him out," he told her simply. "When I saw him fall, I knew he was hurt seriously-and I knew he needed the best care because he's a young man who has his whole life ahead of him. He doesn't want it ruined because of some misplaced local pride…" Astrid flicked her glance up to inspect his face, seeing genuine concern.

"Thank you," she murmured. "He is my precious boy and I don't want anything to happen to him…" He nodded.

"Nor do I," he admitted, glancing over to the boy. Nuffink remained deeply unconscious, his sister managing to sit by him and hold his hand, murmuring reassurances and entreaties to him. His mind drifted back to the encounter in the Cove, to the broken and hurt look in his eyes after his father had messed up his relationship and his despair at how trapped he had felt. And how despite that, the young man had helped him when his leg had cramped and taken him back to the House, his calm and decisive action impressive in a young man. He blinked. Somehow, over the weeks, he had become very fond of Fink and the sight of him injured had upset him more than he was willing to admit.

Astrid inspected his face and sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said honestly, her voice defeated. "I was ungracious when you were…awesome. If you hadn't been there, we would be bouncing along in an ambulance going slowly to Berk General…but instead, you're flying us to the best possible facilities for my son." Hiccup glanced out of the window, seeing that they had already crossed the coastline and were circling over the helipad on top of the ten story ultramodern steel and glass monolith that was Blessed Freya University Hospital. Astrid was shocked that a team of medics and nurses raced out with a trolley to meet them, accompanied by a tall grey-haired man in scrubs.

The door opened and the passengers scrambled out to allow the paramedics to move Fink to the trolley and down to the Assessments Unit. They whisked the young man into the building as the rotors powered down and the engine died. The tall, grey-haired medic walked up to Hiccup and offered his hand.

"Mr Fury! It's a pleasure to see you again!" the man greeted, his face lit with a bright smile. Taking his hand, Hiccup shook it firmly.

"Director Thorkild, it's always a delight to be here at Blessed Freya," he said. "Though maybe not under these circumstances…" The surgeon nodded, his expression serious.

"The paramedics contacted us," he agreed. "They said the young man is a friend of yours and he had received a blow to the head from a motorcycle during a race?"

"Berk Motocross Island Championships," Hiccup confirmed. "He fell down a thirty foot slope as well and has been unconscious for over half an hour. I knew he needed to be here. I have absolute faith in your capabilities." Director Thorkild gave a small smile.

"That's praise from our biggest benefactor," he confessed, seeing Hiccup smile and look away self-consciously.

"Your excellent and groundbreaking work is definitely worth supporting-especially in this Archipelago where people seem to enjoy hazardous pursuits on a daily basis!" he admitted. "May we go inside? I am sure Fink's mother and sister want to know how he is?" The surgeon nodded and introduced himself to the pair.

"Director Egil Thorkild, Chief of Neurosurgery and Trauma," he said, looking reassuringly into their eyes. "Your son will be in good hands. Please follow me-I'll take you to the relatives' room while we assess him-and the nurse will need to get some information about him from you." Astrid nodded.

"Thank you," she murmured and followed him into the building. As they vanished, Cami jumped from the cockpit and walked to stand by Hiccup's side.

"What do you want me to do, Ingen?" she asked clearly. "We can't park up here for long. And that was no accident." He swung round to inspect her.

"No, it was deliberate," he murmured. "Number Four was tracking him all the way round and tried to get him twice. Can you contact Snot and Thuggory and get them to isolate the footage before anything happens to it? And then investigate who Number Four is…or is supposed to be. My guess would be that the real competitor number four will turn up, having been knocked over the head or drugged." Cami folded her arms.

"Why would anyone want to harm such a great kid?" she asked thoughtfully. "He doesn't strike me as the type to get into that much trouble."

"The father, on the other hand, is an appalling gambler, a womaniser and a man up to his eyeballs in debt," Hiccup mused. "There are a number of people who are very annoyed at his inability to honour his debts and his cavalier attitude to his business. Maybe someone wanted to send a message?"

"Though it would have worked better if the father had actually bothered to turn up," Cami put in dryly. "What father misses his son's big race?" Hiccup shrugged, recalling the few occasions when his father had been forced to apologise and his own disappointment on those few painful days.

"Occasionally life happens," he reminded her. "Your mother is First Minister of Bog and sometimes, she has responsibilities."

"But for something like that-or in my case, the inter-island Judo Championships-she cleared her diary," Cami told him. "She was always very supportive…"

"While we know Fink's father…isn't…" the billionaire murmured. "I wonder what he'll think about his new acquaintance stealing his entire family away to Dragon Island?" Cami winked and turned back to the cockpit.

"I suspect as long as it doesn't cost him any money or interfere with his own pleasure, he won't be bothered," she commented. "I'll park down at the Heliport on Red Death Rise and catch a cab to the apartment. Call me if you need me, 'kay?" Hiccup nodded, flashing a small smile.

"Thanks, Cami," he said honestly. "Can you ask Snot and Thug to update me when they have something?" She winked.

"Your wish is my command," she teased him as she started the engine and he backed away, then walked into the hospital. As he entered the elevator, he pulled off his glasses and rubbed his nose tiredly. His leg was aching, his head was buzzing and somehow, he was completely on edge-because he was going to have to spend more time than he would have liked one-to-one with Astrid. And she was the gravest threat to his anonymity, because she had known him best.

He would have to be very careful.


	27. Waiting Room Blues

**Twenty-Seven: Waiting Room Blues**

 

“Any news?”

 

Astrid was on her feet in a second as the nurse walked into the relatives’ room, her blue eyes wide with anxiety at the vacuum they found themselves in. Zephyr was withdrawn, sitting with her legs draw up to her chest and arms wrapped around them while the billionaire had been quietly sitting in his corner, scanning his phone and not intruding. Astrid had been restless, pacing back and forth, sitting down then leaping up again, peering out of the windowand looking down over the carpark and the slope towards the shoreline, her anxious gaze sweeping across the vista.

 

Dragonia, the city on Dragon Island and the Capitol of the United Archipelago, was a densely populated conurbation that was still carefully managed to allow the parks and trees to soften the hard edges of the lines of terraced granite houses and the more impressive Government Buildings that were all built in Neo-Classical style. Through the centre of the settlement, the Legislative and Financial Buildings were proudly sited alongside wide boulevards lined with hardy oak and ash trees that gave the area the feel of a great European City. Green coloured trams bustled along the streets and a few cars dodged between them, though most people used the excellent public transport. Behind the hospital-which was placed on a promontory to allow clear access for the air ambulance-the University Campus was compact with glass and steel buildingslinked by covered connecting walkways to ensure the students were able to get around easily even in the worst of the weather. Running the full range of programmes, Archipelago University was an excellent school and had a large and hardworking student population. Wrapped around the campus and hospital, a myriad of shops, bars, coffee houses, eateries and clubs, pubs, theatres and cinemas ensured there was plenty to occupy the inhabitants of the city.

 

Further up, the Presidential Residence with the fabled Granite Office sat on the flanks of the extinct volcano that loomed over the town. Asgard Park wrapped around the residence and stretched down to the police and army barracks that sat alongside the student residence blocks. Dotted through the town, the various Guilds were emblazoned with the shields of their crafts. To the east, the huge shopping centre abutted Thor’s Market, the main trading point for commercial and private sellers, with the Fish Market renowned across the entire region. At the edges of the city and mingled in small neighbourhoods between the main structures, uniform granite stone houses were neatly lined up. A few four and five storey apartment blocks were also mingled in, carefully placed to not obscure the view of the town. Over to the west, the Yacht Club had a magnificent harbour abutting the commercial port and several luxurious apartment blocks were built for the rich and socially ambitious, including the magnificent Duplex that Hiccup owned as his base on the island. Utilities companies were sited the far side of the Port and the main airport was further west still, though there was a private heliport half a mile from the hospital where Hiccup’s helicopter had been parked.

 

“Director Thorkild is on his way,” the nurse said, her crisp blue uniform rustling as she moved.

 

“Is Fink…?” Zephyr asked, scrambling up to stand by her mother. The nurse gave a reassuring smile.

 

“The doctor will explain everything,” she said and left. Astrid grasped her daughter’s hand.

 

“It will all be fine,” she assured her daughter. “Finky is a fighter.” Zephyr stilled and her head bowed.

 

“I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to him,” she murmured softly as her mother wrapped her arms around her.

 

“Me neither,” she admitted, hugging her daughter for mutual comfort. Sighing, Zephyr closed her eyes and curled into her mother’s strong body. Astrid rested her cheek on her daughter’s head.“Look, Zeph-Mr Fury brought us here because he’s right-this is the finest medical facility in the Archipelago and he will get absolutely the best possible care. So he is going to be fine because if they don’t do their absolute best…I will find an axe and chop them to bits!” Zephyr looked up.

 

“Not sure that works as motivation, Mom,” she said with the smallest possible smile.

 

“It would make me feel better,” she confessed with a smile as Director Thorkild walked in and gestured, inviting them to sit down. Immediately, Hiccup rose to his feet.   
  
“I’ll leave you to your privacy,” he offered but Astrid shook her head.

 

“Stay, please,” she murmured and nodding, he sat back down. Director Thorkild smiled.

 

“Nuffink has a concussion,” he explained. “We have run CT, MRI and PET scans and a EEG and there is no sign of any lasting damage. He also had a dislocated left shoulder, which we have popped back into place and a sprained ankle. He’s also got some bruised ribs but no chest injury. He didn’t injure his neck or back and he is already showing signs of starting to wake.”

 

“Oh, thank Thor,” Astrid breathed. “Will he be okay?”

 

“We have treated him using our Concussion Protocol as a precaution and he will need careful observation and management for the next couple of days but yes, I think he will make a full recovery.”

 

“Can we see him?” Zephyr asked and the doctor smiled.

 

“Come with me,” he invited them as Hiccup remained in his seat. He smiled at them.

 

“Go,” he said. “I’ll be here when you’re finished.” But he visibly relaxed as they left and he immediately leaned forward so he could rub his aching leg. The muscles were starting to cramp and he was a long way from home and his painkillers. Gritting his teeth, he dug his fingers into the tender muscle, massaging determinedly to slowly ease the tension until he could finally sit back, stretching out the leg and sighing. Immediately, the phone rang and he thumbed it to take the call with a sigh.

 

“What is it, Snot?” he asked tiredly.

 

“Good to speak to you too, cuz,” was the ironic reply. “You sound rough. Leg?”

 

“How did you guess?” Hiccup asked gruffly.

 

“I saw you running without your proper prosthetic,” his cousin replied dryly.

 

“Have you got any information apart from a very touching concern about my health?” Hiccup asked shortly.

 

“Hold your dragons,” Snotlout replied. “I’m just worried because sometimes you’re a selfless idiot who helps others and forgets about himself. I’ll have Cami bring you some clean clothes and some painkillers from the apartment…”

 

“It’s okay…”

 

“Hicc-I’ve already sent her off,” Snotlout told him firmly. “So chill. The Snotman has it all under control…”

 

“Thanks,” Hiccup admitted gratefully, stretching his leg out and then bending it again. “So what have you got for me?” There was a pause.

 

“You were right,” he revealed. “Four was a ringer. The real kid was found tied up in his apartment when the cops arrived. He was jumped this morning and his bike and leathers stolen-but he claimed not to recognise the man. There’s a very generic e-fit of the man that could apply to about ten thousand men across the Archipelago and no clues.”

 

“You shot him,” Hiccup murmured. “See if you can find some blood and get it to Dragon Island for DNA matching.”

 

“But…”

 

“The bike will be dumped close to the course, in the forest and the perpetrator will have made his escape by car because everyone will be looking for a biker,” Hiccup told him. “Ask Special Investigator Throk to get the analysis run and see if he gets a hit from the Viking Database.” Snotlout hummed and Hiccup knew his cousin was jotting the tasks down on the back of his arm. It was a system that had worked pretty well until that time when it had rained heavily, since when Snotlout always used an indelible marker and then grumbled for days as he tried to soak and scrub the words off.

 

“Gottit,” he murmured. “Why is everything Viking in this place?”

 

“Proud of our fine Norse heritage,” Hiccup replied automatically thickening his voice in a thick Berkian accent to produce an impressive imitation of his father. There was a chuckle from the other end of the line.

 

“That’s Uncle Stoick to a tee,” he commented. “The kid had no enemies so I don’t think someone would go to the expense of trying to hurt or kill him on his own account.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” Hiccup muttered darkly. “Meaning that it’s probably one of the creditors trying to get a message through to Eret to settle some of his debts.”

 

“Well, that narrows it down…not!” Snotlout commented sarcastically. “He’s in debt to half the gamblers and crooks across the Archipelago and has reneged on deals with most of the rest.”

 

“Find out who it is and then arrange for me to meet him,” Hiccup ordered.

 

“Not a great idea,” Snotlout immediately vetoed. “Hicc-your cover depends on you appearing successful and above all, clean. You can’t associate with gangsters and crooks…”

 

“I do every day,” the billionaire replied dryly. “They’re called politicians.” Snotlout sighed.

 

“I mean _official_ criminals,” he argued. “Look, I know you want to get Eret most of all because of Uncle Stoick and I understand, I really do…but you have to think smart. And I cannot believe I said that to my brilliant and smart cousin! But someone has to.”

 

Hiccup was silent, though his free hand clenched into a fist, the knuckles white through the skin.

 

“I know you want Eret bankrupt, shamed, ruined, driven to suicide preferably-and you have to know that I and the others all support you in it,” Snotlout continued. “Look, I’ve observed this guy every time you meet him-and he’s a total ass. No, that’s not right. He’s an abusive, vile, self-centred user who has no morals and will use everything and everyone for his own advantage.” He paused. “But if you want to take him down, you need to keep to the plan. So Thug or I will go to talk to whoever paid for the hit. What do you want us to do?”

 

“Buy the debt,” Hiccup said coldly. “Buy all his debt. I don’t want the family targeted. This is Eret’s problem and he alone should pay the price. And by the gods, I will make sure he does.”

 

There was a pause.

 

“Sometimes, you scare me,” Snotlout said quietly. “Sometimes, you sound like a total stranger rather than my dorky, kind, brilliant cousin. And then I remember what happened to you and I-I can’t possibly understand it all. But please remember you have us all on your side. You don’t have to do this alone-and I am always here for you. Whatever you ask, I’m your man.” Hiccup took shuddering breath.

 

“I thought I was determined to make them all pay…but I know the kids,” he confessed. “And I can’t do it. They’re innocent. They haven’t harmed me-and I can’t be as bad as their parents and harm an innocent. So I need to stop the people Eret owes seeing his family as viable targets. And though they will be harmed when I take their father-and mother-down, they both have options. Fink is a bright kid and I can sponsor him for training or study in whatever he wants to do. And Zephyr already has scholarships offered for her art. Both of them will do fine.” There was a sigh of relief.

 

“There’s my cuz,” Snotlout said. “I’ll get back to you when I have more news.” And he rung off. Hiccup closed his eyes and rested back in the chair.

 

“I just hope they can one day forgive me for what I have to do,” he murmured.

 

oOo

 

He was gently shaken awake and his eyes snapped open-to meet the concerned blue gaze of Astrid. For a brief moment, he was befuddled from sleep and it was almost as if he was back home, dozing in Toothless’s cockpit after a night tinkering-to be woken by his beautiful girlfriend with that same concerned look.

 

“Astrid?” he murmured hoarsely. “Mi-…”

 

And then reality kicked him. He was dead. In his place was the billionaire aircraft manufacturer and engineer Tallon Fury and the man with no past who had escaped from Jotunheim and been plucked from the freezing Sullen Sea. And the woman facing him had thrown her lot in with the man who had framed him and stolen everything he owned-and wasn’t his lady in any way, shape or form.

 

“My neck is very stiff,” he mumbled, covering the almost-slip. Astrid smiled, handing him a paper cup of steaming hot black coffee. “Thanks.”

 

“Sorry we took so long,” she apologised. “Fink was awake for a few minutes and it was just such a relief to speak to him and have him respond like his old self. The doctors were very pleased and then, when he fell asleep again, I just wanted to be there with him, holding his hand like I did when he was sick as a child. He’s my baby and…I can’t imagine you would understand the feeling.” He sat up straighter and took a sip of the hot liquid. “Or maybe you can. Sorry. I’m all over the place. I’m surprised that you waited, to be honest. You’ve been so kind and more than generous.”

 

“Well, I couldn’t leave and not know how Fink was doing,” he said, checking his shades were in place. Had she glimpsed his eyes? But then, he had looked at her through them when he had woken so maybe he was still in luck… She smiled and sat beside him.

 

“Thank you,” she repeated and ran her hands through her hair, dishevelled and half-falling out of her braid. “Really. I mean, where was my husband? He’s at his Casino and refuses to come out because he can’t be bothered and there may be some high stakes game in the offing! And without you, my son would be sitting in the assessment area in Berk General ED and wouldn’t be getting the best of care that he deserves…”

 

“He’s a great kid and I can’t understand why he and his father have such a poor relationship…though it’s clearly none of my business…” Hiccup commented, cracking his neck and wincing.

 

“You noticed, huh?” Astrid commented dryly.

 

“My father was constantly proud of me when I was a kid-and when I was older,” he revealed carefully. “Not saying it was a perfect relationship but I knew he loved me and would always be there for me.” Astrid let her head drop back and she looked up at the ceiling.

 

“I think…Eret is a control freak and Fink is a free spirit,” she murmured. “I mean, he’s sassy and defiant and refuses to do what’s expected of him because he doesn’t want to have his life mapped out by a man he despises.” She sighed. “I mean, there is a part of Fink that is desperate for his father’s approval and love…but that portion of him shrinks every time he’s rejected or humiliated or just plain hurt by him. And I fear one day, he’ll leave home and I’ll never see him again…”

 

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about on that front,” Hiccup assured her. “He clearly loves you and Zephyr and will do anything he can to protect you. Even if he leaves, he’ll still be in touch and would want to get you away from your husband.”

 

“Eret will never let me go,” Astrid murmured dully. “I’m his trophy, his victory prize.” He took another sip of his coffee.

 

“Oh?” he asked gently. She shrugged.

 

“I was girlfriend to another guy before Eret,” she said softly, her tone sad. “He was…amazing. Brave, smart, kind, hot as hell-though he never realised it-sassy, witty, warm…”

 

“So why…?”

 

“He was framed for treason,” she said sadly. “It was a complete crock but nothing his Dad and I could do. No one would listen. Appeals were rejected. Papers were lost. We wrote-I wrote three times a week but I never got a letter back and I worried he would imagine we had given up. And I would have fought my way all the way to the prison gates if I thought it would enable me to spend five measly minutes with him, reassuring him that I loved him and wanted him and would never give up on him. But we were trying to appeal to Central Government-and meeting wall after wall-when news came through he had killed himself. And I was distraught. He was my best friend as well as my lover-and when he died, something died inside of me. Eret had been his business partner and he took the business and everything my friend had possessed after he was convicted. He just kept asking and asking so I said yes. But I don’t love him-and never did.”

 

“You could have left Berk,” Hiccup pointed out, sipping his rapidly cooling coffee. If possible, it was even worse than Tuff’s coffee on the Barf’n’Belch but it was hot and lousy with caffeine.

 

“Berk was his home,” she sighed. “Everything here reminded me of him. And his father would never leave. If I left, it would feel like I was abandoning them both. And when I truly realised what a absolute piece of work Eret was…I was pregnant and couldn’t leave. It wasn’t an easy pregnancy and I spent a lot of it in hospital. At least he could afford to pay for the care: it was the least he could do. The least he owed me for taking my Hiccup away.”

 

Hiccup stared at his cup and gathered his thoughts. Internally, he felt conflicted because here and now, she was still the Astrid he remembered and what she was saying reminded him of all those years together, all those years he had dreamed of her and imagined her safe and waiting for him. But she had married Eret and her reasoning, the justification she was giving him for marrying the man who had ruined him and condemned him to die just didn’t add up. She had made her choice and stood by Eret even when she had known exactly what kind of man he was.

 

“Quite,” he murmured neutrally. She looked up.

 

“I’m sorry-I’m making you feel awkward,” she apologised. “It’s just…I feel I can talk to you. There’s something about you that feels…trustworthy…”

 

“Thanks,” he said with a forced grin. She shrugged and pushed the stray golden strands off her face.

 

“You know, my husband asked me to get close to you,” she told him unexpectedly. “I mean, he is absolutely steaming that you were out with Atali, that you were very publicly seen kissing her.”

 

“Why should he be?” he asked her dryly. “You’re his wife, not her.” She gave a humourless chuckle.

 

“I think we both know he’s been banging her for the last year,” she told him bitterly.

 

“And here’s no one for you?” he asked her directly. She shook her head.

 

“The only man for me died about seventeen years ago,” she murmured. “I am married to a man I despise. If he wants to stray he can. But I won’t.”

 

“Except he asked you to get close to me,” Hiccup said dryly. “I suspect he means seduce me?” She nodded.

 

“He’s a man who thinks at the lowest common denominator,” she admitted. “Sex, power, money is all he interested in. He has no interest in anyone’s feelings, hopes, fears…”

 

“Atali is very similar-but I guess you already knew that fact?” he checked and she nodded.

 

“She wastes no chance to rub my nose in her affair,” Astrid murmured. “I mean, I can’t do anything about the gifts and the sex but I can deprive her of her satisfaction by not rising to the bait. And knowing she doesn’t want him to leave me because she wouldn’t give him the son he prizes above all things. She’s just fun…and it is amusing that he is so out of sorts because she was seen with another man. Especially one richer, more powerful and more handsome.”

 

“Thanks-I think,” he murmured. “Tough. Atali isn’t my type, to be honest. She’s completely self-absorbed and just out for all she can get. Indiscreet as well. And I only asked her out because she had left nine messages with my PA to come on a date. It was a way to get her off my back.”

 

“Don’t believe it,” Astrid advised him ironically. “She won’t let a good meal ticket go to waste. She’ll be worse than ever.”

 

“I may have to remain on Dragon Island,” he said dryly. “Though I doubt that would deter her.”

 

“I always got the impression that she prefers being a big fish in a small pond rather than a small fish is a very big ocean…” Astrid put in. “I mean, I could try to seduce you if you wanted but I am extremely out of practice and I’m not at my best.” She gestured to her muddy boots and jacket. He smirked.

 

“Let’s not,” he suggested. “To be honest, I’d rather just talk.” She frowned, the words jarring a half-forgotten memory.

 

“I’m sorry but have we met before?” she murmured. “You just seem really familiar.” He abruptly stood up, ignoring the stabbing pains that lanced through his stump.

 

“No, we’ve never met before I moved to Berk,” he said coldly and walked to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “Have you called your husband?” Her head dropped.

 

“No,” she murmured. “Not that he will have noticed that we’re missing yet-only when he returns home later tonight. But you’re right. He deserves to know where we are.” Glancing over his shoulder, Hiccup felt a brief pang of guilt before he firmly crushed it.

 

“And that Tallon Fury kidnapped his entire family to another island,” he added ironically. She managed a slight smile.

 

“Yeah, well, he may accept that as an excuse,” she mumbled and behind his shades, his eyes narrowed.

 

“Astrid?” he asked pointedly. She sighed.

 

“Under other circumstances, this would be perfect,” she admitted. “Because we’re all off Berk and out of his clutches. He never lets us all go off island without him. I think the last holiday we went as a family was when the kids were ten, over to Sandy Isle Holiday Resort. Ever since, we’ve not all been off island. And we’re never allowed away without him.” He turned back to face her and saw the defeated slump of her shoulders. “And I did try, once. I gathered the kids and all our money and we sneaked onto the inter-island ferry, heading off Berk. And I was so relieved when the ferry pulled away…but we weren’t even out of port when security on the ferry found us and we were detained below. They wouldn’t let is off the ferry and we were forced to return to Berk. And I argued and screamed that I was an adult and I had every right to go off island with my children but all they said was…they had orders from Mr Ryker to stop me leaving. They used force to keep us on that ferry and when we returned, Eret was waiting.”

 

Hiccup’s eyes narrowed at the news and he swallowed but said nothing. Despite himself, he was feeling another pang of pity for the woman.

 

“You are welcome to stay at my apartment on the island, if you wish,” he found himself saying. “If you really don’t want to return home.” And then she looked up, her eyes bright with hope and the expression on her face melting his heart…before she shook his head.

 

“It will cause too much disruption,” she sighed. “And my children’s lives are on Berk. And…my most precious possessions…” He walked closer.

 

“Possessions can be retrieved-and you were desperate to get away,” he said quietly. “Why so reticent when you finally have an opportunity?” Her eyes flicked up guiltily.

 

“Eret was very clear when we returned,” she said tonelessly. “He would never give up. He considers marriage for life-or until he discards me. And he will use all his connections to get me back. And he promised…to kill anyone who helped me.” She looked up. “I know him. He’s completely immoral and ruthless. He framed his business partner for treason and all his debts and lied in court to condemn him to die in prison. You have been so kind in bringing us here here for Fink. I-I can’t risk you…”

 

“The offer stands-and is genuine,” he said. “At least use my apartment while you are here. I can stay in the hotel…”

 

“But it’s your home and…” He shook his head.

 

“You need it more, I think,” he said. “At least stay there while Fink is in hospital. It’s only a short way from here and you should be able to get some rest. I don’t know about you but sleeping in these chairs is pretty uncomfortable!” She sighed.

 

“I can’t sleep in chairs,” she admitted. “I need my bed-but my friend used to sleep anywhere. And if I snuggled up to him, I could sleep anywhere as well.” She looked up. “Thank you. You have been more than kind.” He nodded.

 

“You’re welcome,” he said, feeling ashamed. No matter how angry he felt intellectually, when faced with Astrid, he just felt sad. Because she was sad and clearly was trapped in a loveless marriage with a controlling and abusive Eret who had no qualms about using his friends to illegally constrain her and keep his family as effective prisoners on the island of Berk. A brief thought wondered how he would react to Hiccup’s decisive removal of the family from the island without his permission but he shook off any concerns. He had his own supporters and on Dragon Island, with the President and Throk on hand, he was untouchable.

 

The problem was, he needed to go back to Berk as well.

 

The door opened at that moment and Zephyr poked her head in, smiling with relief.

 

“He’s woken again, Mom,” she reported, her face showing the strain. “And he’s asking for Mr Fury.” Hiccup blinked and stiffened as Astrid rose to hug her daughter.

 

“Go ahead,” she said. “I think you deserve it.” Nodding, he walked to the door and headed right along the short corridor towards the main ICU. Automatically, he gelled his hands and then looked up, seeing the pallid shape of Fink, lying in the bed surrounded by monitors. He walked forward as the young man’s eyes widened and a smile lifted his pale lips.

 

“Tallon,” he called weakly and the man redoubled his speed, walking forward to sit by the bed and grasp the outstretched hand. “You stayed.” Hiccup smiled.

 

“Where else would I be?” he asked gently, sitting on the chair by the bed. He glanced up at the nurse. “How is he?” She smiled.

 

“Concussed and with a pounding headache but he should make a full recovery,” she reported. “He was unconscious for over an hour so he’ll be observed for forty-eight hours and of course, he has other injuries.”

 

“Yeah-shoulder and ankle,” Fink murmured. “I’m out for the season.” Hiccup’s phone beeped and he glanced at the screen with a small smile.

 

“But still the champion,” he revealed. “The jury decided to end the race at the top of the final slope-and as the leader then, you were declared the winner once more. That was some brave riding.” Fink frowned, his eyes shadowing with concern.

 

“You know, I can’t remember anything after we lined up for the start,” he admitted. “Zeph told me what happened but…I got nothing. She told me you insisted on flying me here to get the best care?” Hiccup nodded.

 

“Ruff had a severe concussion while riding around Raven Point and she was treated really well here,” he revealed. “They looked after her amazingly and she’s back to her normal self. Well, as normal as she always was…” Fink gave a small smile.

 

“Can you thank her and Tuff?” he asked. “I really couldn’t have done it without them. They were the most awesome crazy friends and mentors…”

 

“I suspect they’ll drop in before you’re released anyway,” Hiccup revealed. “But of course.” Then Fink looked directly into his eyes, even though they were obscured from by Hiccup’s habitual mirror shades.

 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “I-I mean it. If there is anything you need or anything I can do for you-please just ask. I guess there isn’t much I could do for someone like you but…the offer is always there.” Hiccup nodded, curiously touched by the genuine and heartfelt words. Fink sighed and closed his eyes. “I wish you were my Dad,” he breathed. Hiccup’s breath hitched. “Sorry. Awkward. But…well…yeah, the would be great…” Absently, Hiccup patted his hand and felt the warm fingers curl hopefully around his. Curiously reassured, he sat back, still holding the boy’s hand.

 

“I don’t have any children,” he admitted. “But I think I would have been honoured to have a son like you." He sighed. “You know you are always welcome up at the house. You don’t need to ask. And Snotlout and Thuggory have your bike up at Raven Point. I’ll fix it for you.” Fink’s lips tilted in a smile.

 

“Thanks, sir,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

 

“Not your fault,” Hiccup assured him. ”Now you get some rest. I’ll be here, Fink.” The young man smiled and his eyes fluttered loved again.

 

“I really wish you were my Dad,” he breathed before he fell asleep once more.


	28. Whispers in the Dark

**A/N: Well I'm back. Apologies for vanishing so abruptly. Unfortunately, I have had to undergo surgery for cancer and I still have further treatment ahead. However, I will try to post as regularly as I can, dependent on how I am. I am not giving up so updates will be continuing...though sometimes the schedule may go a bit** **haywire.**

**A/N 2: Starts with a lemon.**

**-o0o-**

**Twenty Eight: Whispers in the Dark**

_"_ _Hiccup? Babe? Are you awake?"_

_Blearily, his eyes opened and Hiccup sat bolt upright, blinking._

_"'_ _M awake," he mumbled, trying to focus. "What time is it?"_

_"_ _It's seven in the morning and you seem to have slept overnight in the cockpit of this old wreck!" she told him tartly. She was vibrant as she was every morning, her blue eyes bright and cheeks flushed with the brisk walk up from their home. Smiling, she settled in the copilot's seat and handed him a flask. "Coffee," she said shortly, watching him fumble the top then pour himself a large serving of the steaming black liquid, the rich aroma immediately filling the space. Taking a sip, he sighed and then sagged in relief._

_"_ _Gods, that hits the spot," he murmured, taking another larger sip. "You absolutely make the best coffee in the world, Milady." She chuckled._

_"_ _Me and my spoon and my jar of instant," she teased him. He chuckled._

_"_ _And yet…you make it taste better than the finest barista," he told her loyally, draining his cup and refilling it._

_"_ _So what was it this time?" she asked. "You only pull an all-nighter if there is a particularly knotty problem." Sitting back more comfortably, he nodded._

_"_ _I was worried about the handling of the steering column so I stripped the whole thing back, found a few grains of rust and some corrosion. So I rebuilt the harness and the whole thing is absolutely reliable and much smoother…"_

_"_ _I think I'm planning to marry a genius," she told him, leaning forward and stealing a small sip of his coffee._

_"_ _Hey! I need all that!" he protested. "And by the way, who is he so I can warn him no coffee is safe with you around…?" She swatted his shoulder gently._

_"_ _Doofus-you're the genius," she told him, laughing. "Toothless is ready to fly again now?"_

_"_ _And better than ever," he confirmed, pulling her to straddle his lap._

_"_ _I missed you," she told him, staring deep into his eyes. He could smell the flowery scent of her shower gel as she leaned forward, rubbing her nose gently against his. "The bed is really cold without you."_

_"_ _Oh! Low blow! Is that all you need me for-a hot water bottle?" he teased her in a mock-hurt voice._

_"_ _Are you pouting?" she giggled. Fierce and determined, she only lowered her defences with him and allowed herself to be a young woman in love._

_"_ _I was just wondering if our engagement was based on falsehoods…and rather than mutual love and attraction, our relationship is entirely based upon my thermal properties," he continued as she shook her head._

_"_ _Maybe…I need to convince you?" she murmured as she smiled and leaned forward, pressing a long, sensuous kiss against his lips. Eagerly, he leaned up into the kiss, feeling strands of her silky blonde hair gently brush his cheeks as they kissed. "Better?"_

_"_ _I surrender," he mumbled against her lips. Her hands gripped his shoulders fiercely and his hands tenderly landed on her waist and hips, dragging up her blouse and caressing her silky skin. She intensified her kiss, shifting as she grew more aroused. He broke for a deep breath and then kissed her urgently, more desperately as she raised her arms and he eagerly hauled her blouse over her head and tossed it aside._

_"_ _I was lonely," she whispered. "I hate sleeping without you."_

_"_ _Me too," he murmured, leaning forward to nuzzle into her neck, peppering her skin and chest with featherlight kisses as he teased her. She flung her head back as his dexterous hands lightly slid up and down her sides, thumbs lightly teasing her hardened nipples as she shifted playfully in his lap._

_"_ _Babe…" she breathed, leaning forward and kissing him. Hungrily, he kissed her back, lips parting to allow their tongues to battle, feeling her urgent need to lead, to be in control. Astrid was a fierce and competitive woman and he loved her with all his heart. In everyday life for as long as he had known her, she always gave her best to try to be first…and often, when they made love, she took control but in his arms, cocooned by his love, she was just as willing to cede dominance to him. Their temperaments meshed perfectly, her ferocious competitiveness and his easy-going, patient generosity-and she instinctively knew what he wanted, just as he always knew her needs. She shifted in his lap again, deliberately grinding across his bulge. Unconsciously, he groaned._

_"_ _You wanna do this now?" he breathed. She kissed him again, smiling against his lips._

_"_ _You don't want to?" she gasped, swiping her bangs off her face. He shook his head._

_"_ _Of course I do…but I don't want you to feel…" he murmured._

_"_ _Anytime, any place, anywhere, anyhow-I am yours, Babe," she promised. "You are the only man for me. And I will never love anyone like you…" He sucked gently at the hollow of her throat, his tongue lazily teasing her sensitive flesh._

_"_ _So you are planning to love someone else?" he mumbled against her. She giggled._

_"_ _Maybe one day…you could persuade me to have some children…" she chuckled. He nipped her ear._

_"_ _So you may want some?" he whispered huskily. She kissed the tip of his nose._

_"_ _I want you," she murmured. "I love you-and no one else. And I want to spend the rest of our lives together. And in my heart, I think that will involve a family one day. Maybe a son..or a daughter…"_

_"_ _Nuffink….Zephyr…" he breathed, kissing along the line of her jaw, his thumbs insistently circling her hardened nipples, deliberately grazing the super-sensitive flesh._

_"_ _Those are the craziest names…" she gasped as he peppered kisses down her chest. Swiftly, he dropped his hands and unfastened her jeans. She stood, staring at his awestruck shape, her lithe form silhouetted against the light filtering through the cockpit window as she shimmied out of her jeans and slid her lacy panties down as well, before popping open his fly and releasing his erection._

_"_ _Astrid…I'll call them whatever you want…as long as they're with you…" he breathed as she took him in her mouth. "Gods…whatever you want…" Eyes locked on his face, her head bobbed up and down as he writhed, the pressure tightening in his body. But he was still hard and wound up tighter than a spring as she lifted her head and rose, clambering into his lap once more._

_"_ _Ready?" she whispered as he nodded, almost beyond words._

_"_ _For you, Milady-always…" he murmured as she impaled herself upon him and there, in the cabin of his beloved Toothless, they flew to Valhalla together…_

oOo

His eyes snapped open and he sat up, breathing hard. The memory was one from a few days before his arrest and the end of his normal life but it was a morning he had run over and over in his mind as he had shivered and starved in Jotunheim. It had been a perfect morning even though the storm clouds were already gathering. Astrid had honestly never looked more beautiful, his life had never seemed more perfect and he had honestly never been happier. His whole life had stretched ahead of him, with his freight company, Astrid as his wife and his possible-family all there to enjoy. But unbeknown to him, his so-called friend had already set him up and his arrest and imprisonment was only days away. And then Eret had systematically taken everything from him to add insult to injury.

_What did I ever do to him?_

He scrubbed his eyes with his fists. It was still late…or very early, depending on your point of view…but he was certain he wouldn't sleep again. And the answer was very simple: nothing. Hiccup did nothing to Eret-he was convenient patsy, a gullible fool who had taken in a man malignant to his bones who had systematically used Hiccup, bled him dry, framed him for his debts and his treason and destroyed everything he held dear.

_Including Astrid and I._

He slid his legs over the edge fo the bed and stretched. Spending time with Astrid one-to-one must have unsettled him more than he realised, stirring memories he had carefully suppressed as he leaned forward and automatically attached his prosthetic. Wearily, he clicked the side lamp on and stared across the room. He was in the hotel at the Yacht Club for though he had given Astrid and Zephyr his own Duplex to stay in, he had decided it was just too risky to stay with them… There was a high chance that Astrid would recognise him if he spent too much time near her and he needed his space: his leg had cramped badly once he left the hospital and he had taken his tablets then fallen asleep-but for not nearly long enough. So now it was three in the morning and he was awake and alert. Slowly, he rose, walked to the phone and ordered coffee and Danish and then he walked to the desk where his phone was charging.

He had scanned his emails before his coffee arrived and tipped the waiter generously before sitting down and fishing out the tablet that Cami had grabbed from his apartment along with his pills and fresh clothes. He paused and walked to the window, the curtains open as usual. His claustrophobia and intense dislike of not being able to see the sky at all times extended to the occasions he staying in hotels-though his wealth meant he could see the most exclusive and accommodating of institutions. And his lips tilted in a small smile at the sight of the lights of Dragonia that twinkled to his left and the dark expanse of the Bay with the moving lights of the early fishing boats setting out to get to the best fishing grounds. For a moment, he missed being back on the Barf'n'Belch with his friends but he had taken a vow when he had buried his father that he would avenge his death as the last thing he could do for the former Mayor. His face hardened: any time his resolve wavered, he just had to think back to that pitiful hovel and the broken shape of his once-powerful and proud father. There was never any question: he was committed to the end.

He drained his first cup of coffee and refilled it before he sat, scanning the documents Fishlegs and his IT specialist, Gustav had sent him. Gustav Larson was a Berk native just in his twenties who had suffered under Viggo's heavy-handed rule. His father had been murdered in a robbery gone wrong-where the perpetrators had never been caught-but there was no longer a safety net for the family after Mayor Stoick had gone. Viggo had repealed many local laws and safeguards he considered 'soft and unnecessary' which contradicted his beliefs of self-sufficiency and independence meaning that seven year old Gustav, his distraught mother and younger siblings had found themselves homeless and dependent on charity. Living in a crowded hostel had been hard and the family had ended separated-though Gustav had managed to keep in touch with them all. Tragically, one of his sisters had ended up murdered by her pimp as she was coming home from her job as a sex worker and his mother had suffered crippling ill health due to lack of medical provision as she couldn't afford any insurance, condemning her to a life in the twilight, slowly fading. Furious at the cruelty and the inequalities that had disadvantaged his family, the young man made a conscious choice to fight back.

Gustav's natural aptitude with computers and especially his skills at hacking had meant he had few qualms in penetrating major companies to see what he could steal and redistribute to the charities that had helped him. Hiccup and Fishlegs had found him trying to hack his system in Dragon's Edge Aerospace and they had sent their fixer to locate the young hacker and bring him to face the billionaire. On meeting him and learning his tale, Hiccup had made him a better offer: the money he made meant that the young man could support his remaining family and move them away from Berk. His personal feelings meant that Gustav had no qualms in penetrating official systems if it meant that Hiccup would bring down the Grimborns but he had one proviso: the ordinary people of Berk could not be allowed to suffer. Hiccup had agreed to his terms whole-heartedly.

He grasped his stylus and eyed the screen, switching to the sketch pad and twirling the stylus. His mind was still racing and he needed to calm himself. Unconsciously, he began to draw and found himself sketching the familiar face of Astrid-not as he recalled her from before prison, the young and hopeful young woman who had made love to him in the cockpit and had planned their life together but the older, sadder version who had survived sixteen years of marriage to Eret. The woman he had spent that hour with in the waiting room and who had unconsciously revealed that she was the same woman he had loved…except that she had betrayed him and married Eret.

He scrubbed out an area and retried, his lips curling in a smile. "You're right, Zephyr-she does do a complicated braid thing," he murmured, correcting the mistake and then quietly adding a little shading. Astrid stared back at him, her face open and thoughtful as she had been when she had revealed why she knew she had to go back. Hiccup knew more than anyone the extent of her husband's underworld connections, the evil men he associated with who would have no qualms at kidnapping the woman and her children and returning them to Berk. The fact they were imprisoned on the ferry when they had tried to leave before was just a taster of the means they would use to retrieve what Eret consider were his possessions. Yet Hiccup was certain that he did possess the resources to protect them if she had accepted the offer because the attempt on Fink's life had driven home that he wasn't the only one with Eret in his sights. Knowing the children as he had come to had convinced him that he couldn't allow them to suffer for the sins of their parents and his orders to Snotlout had been impulsive but genuine. And it offered another way of boxing Eret into the corner he wanted him in.

The image of Astrid looked up at him and he took a deep breath, reaching for the erase button…but impulsively, he stabbed SAVE. Somewhere, buried deep, there was the still the young man he had been, the man who loved Astrid. And as he rotted in prison, he _had_ wanted her to move on, wanted her to live while he was buried forever in Jotunheim…but what had hurt was that she had married Eret, the man who had betrayed him. Quietly, he laid the tablet down and ran his hands through his hair. There was a story there that he didn't know-and his heart was screaming at him to dig deeper. A tiny cynical voice suggested maybe the tale was just a ploy to get his sympathy…she had admitted that her husband had asked her to get close to him, after all…

_She's still Astrid. Straightforward, decent, brave. Astrid who is loyal to her faithless husband, protective of her children and who does what she can for others. She's the leading force in the Women's Institute and greatest fundraiser the Berk has ever seen for good causes. Though her husband and his friends are the reason why her work is needed._

He sat back and stared through the window.

_Then it's time they reap what they've sown._

He turned back to the documents and a video clip. Frowning, he sat back and clicked on the file then watched Ryker and his men dig up the grave that had been carefully logged as Gobber's. A small, lopsided smile twisted his face: it wasn't, of course. Though Hiccup wanted revenge, he honoured and loved the old man too much to use his mortal remains in his revenge. Gobber had earned the rest beside Hiccup's father-his old friend-and the placement was far too big a clue to Hiccup's own identity. So he had Gustav alter the location to one that his fixer had created quietly in the guise of a humble gravedigger, burying the coffin Hiccup had prepared containing an old nameless body from a disused graveyard in Meathead and the coin and map he had carefully prepared. He had known the older brother monitored everything that happened, acting as Viggo's enforcer…but he knew as well from extensive research that the man was avaricious and amoral. He hoped that he could tempt him on the Treasure Hunt that he had planned.

Then he turned to the next document, a heat map of the journeys of the two aircraft he had 'sold' to Eret. As expected by a man so prideful, the man had been eager to make use of his new toys and they had been in the air far more than you would expect-and in his eagerness to gloat, he had never considered that the supposedly generous billionaire would insert some of the most complex and high-tech tracking devices on the planet into the brand new aircraft. Most of the trips the trackers had recorded were as expected-short journeys between Berk and the neighbouring islands…but there were a handful of trips that extended far beyond the locale…all the way up to Icefell in the freezing north. A second map of the filed flight plans and transponder data almost matched the tracker data-except for the Icefell trips, where the plane was supposed to be heading for the Shivering Shores. The transponders were silent on each of those trips.

_He switches off his transponder when he heads for Bludvist's base-so the authorities have no clue where he is. And as the route is blockaded, there's scant chance anyone will see him…except me._

Fishlegs had explained that he had dispatched the twins on surveillance-admittedly not the task that best meshed with their personal skill sets-and they had captured time-stamped footage of the aircraft landing and the crew disembarking after several of the trips to Icefall-including one of them embarking for the direct trip. Nodding, Hiccup had smiled.

FORWARD THEM TO THROK, he had typed. BUT ASK HIM NOT TO ACT-YET. For though he had conclusive proof of the same offence he was sentenced to die in prison for, he knew that Eret and his allies would manage to worm their way out…maybe even offering a lame humanitarian explanation. And he had no doubt the Berk courts would let them off with a misdemeanour.

_Though they sentenced me to die in prison for treason for far less._

Even transferring the case to Dragon Isle would still rely on circumstantial evidence and it would tip his hand too early.

_Eleven years. They cost me eleven years and my life. I want to be absolutely certain. And I want to look into their eyes as I bring them down._

Sipping his cold coffee as the sun rose behind him, Hiccup Haddock continued to sift through the secrets of his enemies lives.

oOo

"You are a difficult man to pin down."

Viggo afforded his guest the barest of nods, his dark eyes inspecting the lean shape closely. Tallon Fury was in a black slim-fit single-breasted Saville Row suit, a rust red silk shirt open at the neck as he sat back and smiled slightly.

"The job of First Minister is onerous," he said by way of explanation. "A multitude of matters vie for my attention."

"Ah," Hiccup said, nodding. "And I am the least of your concerns."

"Certainly not the least-but I regret that you are nowhere near the top of my list of priorities, Mr Fury," the First Minister admitted. "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if, perhaps, I can help you?" Hiccup suggested guilelessly. Viggo frowned.

"How so?" he asked and then pulled himself up. "Not that I don't welcome any public-spirited citizens offering their input into the wellbeing and prosperity of this island…" Scratching his beard, Hiccup chuckled.

"Prosperity is precisely what I had in mind," he explained. "I am certain you have done your homework on my carefully-obscured background and found that my own good fortune was down to the beneficence of my godfather, who left a generous bequest that enable me to buy my company and start my rise to where I am today. He-and my late father-always had a strong civic ethos and also believed that you should pay forward what you receive."

"A good mantra to live by," Viggo agreed, sipping his mead. He had offered Fury a drink but the man had politely declined, leaving the host the awkward choice to go ahead or defer his own drink until his guest had left. Never a man to stint himself, Viggo had poured a double measure in unconscious response to the other man's abstemiousness.

"I think so," Hiccup smiled. "So I am setting up a foundation to offer start-up loans to worthy business ideas, a fund for the people of Berk to allow them to start their own prosperity." Viggo frowned.

"An interesting idea-though I am not sure that such a fund should be administered by a private individual," he mused.

"Why?" Hiccup asked in mock surprise.

"Because there is a high potential for abuse, favouritism or blackmail," the First Minister said calmly. "People will feel beholden to you. And you would be more likely to support those companies you have funded."

"And that's a bad thing?" Hiccup asked, his eyebrows furrowed. Behind his mirror glasses, his eyes were narrowed. What town didn't want a billionaire coming in and pumping thousands and thousands into boosting the economy?

"It skews open competition and disadvantages pre-existing business, many of which may not be in the best of health," Viggo explained, leaning forward.

"Then a fund that is jointly administered with local officials to ensure the fairness and transparency you are concerned about?" Hiccup suggested pointedly. Viggo smiled thinly.

"My officials are far too busy with the job of governing this island to spare time on such frivolities," he said firmly. "Such loans should be the job of the banks…"

"And for those who have a great idea but don't have the credit rating to pass the rigorous banking checks we now have?" Hiccup asked quietly.

"Who would want to lend to such rabble?" the First Minister said dismissively. "I am sorry but I cannot sanction such an enterprise." 'Tallon Fury' clasped his hands thoughtfully and gently rested them against his chin, almost as if praying.

"You mistake me, First Minister," he said calmly. "I don't need your sanction, permission or approval. In common with hundreds of philanthropists and many fellow billionaires across the world, I can set up a charitable foundation any time and anywhere I want within the laws of the country-and the United Archipelago Government strongly supports private loans and microloans provided they don't transgress any of the Financial Conduct Regulations. I was asking if you wanted your name attached to a popular and politically advantageous project. I guess we both know the answer." He was rewarded by the narrowing of Viggo's dark eyes and the dip of his brows.

"I counsel caution," the First Minister said coldly. "My auditors will keep a very close eye on any such enterprise and will deal with any infraction severely."

"And here I was, thinking your people had no time or capacity to be involved in my Foundation," Hiccup forced himself to say dryly.

"I am diverting resources to deal with your foolishness," Viggo snapped. "Resources that would be better spent elsewhere…" Hiccup rose in one smooth motion and inclined his head.

"Then it seems we must agree to disagree," he said calmly. "Good day, First Minister Grimborn." Then he turned and walked from the office without giving the man a chance to say anything further. Snotlout was waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall and he had to speed after his cousin as he saw him emerge at a brisk walk.

"I take it that went as well as expected?" he asked as Hiccup sped down the wide marble stairs, his hand tight on the mahogany rail as he spun round the landing.

"Worse," he growled. "What man doesn't want investment in his island-especially if he's being offered a chance to attach his name to it?"

"An idiot?" Snotlout suggested, falling in step alongside him.

"Or a man who wants the economy failing and people clamouring for anything better," Hiccup muttered.

"But he's the guy in charge," Snotlout pointed out. "Why don't they just blame him?"

"Because economic policy is governed centrally…though individual islands can levy local taxes," Hiccup replied as they reached the wide cream marble lobby. "And guess which island has far and away the highest local taxes?"

"I guess we're standing on it," Snotlout sighed as they emerged into the cool afternoon.

"When we get back, I'm setting up the fund," Hiccup said savagely. "Make sure we have large donations made to the food banks, the Sacred Sisters Hostel and all the temples. The Art Prize is running and all the schools have scholarships set up-including ten College Grants to fully fund poor pupils to the school of their choice to enable them to access education they otherwise couldn't hope to have. We've already given money to upgrade the Sports Centre, the Berk Scauldrons swimming pool and the Berk Public Library…so…can you contact the hospital and see if they have any appeals running for equipment, new buildings etcetera."

"Got it, got it, got it…" Snotlout mumbled scribbling on the back of his hand with an indelible marker he had fished from his pocket. "So when they get back to us, which ones do you want us to fund?"

"All of them," Hiccup growled and marched to his car. Snotlout stared at him and dropped his pen, then grabbed it and ran after him. He caught his cousin's arm.

"Whoa, whoa-all of them?" he asked, his face twisted in concern. "Hic… _Boss_ …you're rich but you can't fund the whole of Berk out of your pocket! No one can!"

"Snot-I have a personal fortune of about twenty billion dollars," Hiccup told him. "My aircraft are metaphorically flying off the shelves and our order books are groaning with orders. Berk is my home and to see what Viggo has done to it breaks my heart-and would have broken Dad's. So if I fund a few things, all I'm doing is paying back what I owe this place…because I should be able to do so much more but I cannot until these…people…are out of the way." His face was tight with frustration as Snotlout glanced over and pulled on his seatbelt.

"Then can I suggest a donation to the Viking Historical Society to preserve what's left of our heritage from Viggo's actions…and maybe a few dollars for the Speedway track before it closes?" he asked. Breathing hard, Hiccup nodded.

"Done and done," he said, his voice calmer. "I know your Dad loves his Speedway and mine was a huge heritage buff. Those are good suggestions." He sighed. "Damn it-Viggo is going to be a hard nut to crack. The man is completely controlled and controlling."

"Then take his control away," Snotlout said simply. "Take away the thing he values most."

"Being First Minister," Hiccup breathed. The he nodded. "Okay-I'll talk to Fish, Cami, Heather and D when we get back. I want you there as well, Snot. I have a plan." Heaving a sigh of relief, Snotlout turned the key in the ignition.

"Glad to help," he murmured. "Anything else?"

"Well, I've stirred up two of my enemies-let's go for the hat trick," Hiccup said. "Tomorrow night I think we should pay the Casino a visit."


	29. Gambits

**Twenty Nine: Gambits**

 

 

“Astrid and the kids returned home this morning,” Heather reported over breakfast, peeking at Hiccup, who was looking tired. He had been woken again by nightmares, images of his father’s death and Gobber’s that had robbed him from rest far too soon.

 

“I knew she would,” he said, sipping his coffee. He looked pale and jaded, deep shadows under his eyes. “She’s scared that Eret will use his contacts to kidnap them back. And yes, I did offer them sanctuary in the Duplex on Dragon Isle.”

 

“She probably doesn’t know the badasses you have on your side, Ingen,” Heather murmured. “Or how capable you are of handling yourself…” Hiccup closed his eyes. He had built a firing range in the basement and regularly practiced to maintain his skills-as well as honing his knife-throwing skills. One-legged and lean-though stronger than he looked, he was under no illusions that he was a less than intimidating presence physically so he worked hard to maximise his abilities since he guessed that his billionaire persona would paint a large target on him for some of the worst elements in the Archipelago.

 

“I have some serious Badasses on my side,” he sighed. “Has Dagur arrived?” Snotlout nodded.

 

“He’s waiting in the office,” he reported. “He said he was in the neighbourhood so he could drop in and see his sister.” Refilling his cup of coffee, Hiccup grabbed a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice as well and then rose and wearily walked towards the office, thinking hard. His plans were moving forward steadily but Ryker's was the most complex. Everything he had learned about the older Grimborn showed that he was completely ruthless and vicious, a man who terrorised and killed without qualms and who infamously left no witnesses. His greed had shown in his acquisition of assets of those he had disposed of and in the lavish home and cars he had: it had been a way in to start drawing Ryker into Fury’s web. Along with his brother…though Ryker was the primary target.

 

_Ryker Kilian Grimborn. RKB. The man whose initials condemned me to die in Jotunheim, the man who is a tool of Bludvist. A traitor first and last. And I will bury you for treason. But I’m going to make you suffer first…_

 

He pushed the door open and found a powerfully-built man peering at a small framed image of Stoick and Hiccup, taken when the latter was a boy. Dagur was a buff man with pale green eyes, a slightly hooked nose and scars on his right cheek. Sometime in the years between when he had persuaded Guard Vorg to allow Gothi the medic to treat the dying Hiccup’s wounds and amputate his hopelessly gangrenous leg, he had acquired the scars down his right cheek and three tattooed claw marks over his left eye, lending him a very sinister appearance. But he was a good man, for all that he ran a band of mercenaries who were infamous throughout the Archipelago. His short carrot red hair was spiky and a scrubby beard covered his chin. His leather vest audibly creaked as he moved.

 

“You were a cute kid, brother,’ he commented. Hiccup rested his coffee on the desk.

 

“I was ground zero for freckles, clumsiness and looked like a talking fishbone,” he commented dryly. “Any normal person would wonder if I had been adopted when they glanced at my Dad.” Dagur arched an eyebrow and then nodded.

 

“Certainly a contrast,” he noted. “Though you both have the same nose. He looks familiar.”

 

“And I would be grateful if you kept that to yourself,” the billionaire told him quietly, gently grasping the frame and stowing it in the top drawer. “I was working late and I tend to have Dad here when I’m alone in the office. It-it keeps him close…and reminds me why I’m doing this.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Dagur reminded him easily.

 

“Actually, I do,” Hiccup sighed, sliding into the padded seat. “I made a promise to him as he lay dying. I can’t fail him. I can’t fail the island he loved and protected by letting these monsters get away with what they did to us-and so many others.”

 

“It’s risky,” Dagur counselled him, sitting opposite. Hiccup pushed the orange juice towards him.

 

“I can’t rest until I have done,’ he admitted. “And he can’t either.” Slowly, Dagur nodded. His own father, Oswald, had died when he was much younger and his sister had been a child. The young Dagur had done everything he could to support them both and he had worked hard to ensure they were safe…but unbeknownst to him, Heather was being groomed by an older man, someone Dagur had trusted…Johann. And then, when Heather was fourteen, she had vanished. Dagur had been searching for her since-until Hiccup had found her after nine years missing, a prisoner in Betsy’s, the most infamous whore house in the North, situated on Trader’s Isle and owned-via a string of ghost companies-by Johann.

 

“I couldn’t until I found Heather,” he admitted.

 

"You found the time to save my life,” Hiccup reminded him with a smile.

 

“And you found my sister,” the buff man parried lightly. “I searched for almost ten years, following every clue and lead…and you found her for me.”

 

“I had more resources-and I don’t exist,” Hiccup reminded him. “I owed you my life…” Dagur smiled.

 

“You are my brother and I trust you,” he said. “But occasionally, you ask some very unusual favours…”

 

“You replaced the man?” Hiccup checked and Dagur chuckled.

 

“I suspect the burials he received from us were much better than what he got originally,” he admitted. “And now he’s back home in Meathead. Did he take the bait?”

 

“Fish has some excellent footage of them grave-robbing,” Hiccup confirmed. “Is the next part set up?” Dagur chuckled.

 

“I'm seriously glad you’re on my side, Ingen," he commented. “Because I would hate to have you as my enemy.” The billionaire gave a shrug.

 

“I was no one’s enemy until I was betrayed-and now I am No One…and their worst nightmare…” he said grimly as Dagur nodded.

 

“Your friend was right, by the way,” he revealed. “Eretson has some very unsavoury contacts. I think a trio of small businessmen here on Berk tried to take him to court over unpaid debts. They were leaned on-hard. Two of them were ambushed in their own homes, beaten and punched and terrorised. One almost died. The third was away but his children and wife were terrorised for hours by the thugs. All men withdrew their complaints and the debts were never paid.” His pale green eyes flicked up, darkened with warning. “This guy is dangerous, Ingen. He plays for keeps and cares nothing for anyone but himself.” Hiccup nodded and sipped his coffee, draining the cup.

 

“I intend to ruin him, make him penniless and desperate, take his home and business and family-and then I will kill him,” Hiccup said without emotion. “And you are going to help me.” Recalling the dying prisoner, his leg rotting as he lay abandoned to death in his cell, Dagur drained his orange juice in one long pull.

 

“It will be my pleasure,” he said.

 

oOo

 

Floodlights illuminated the gleaming and gaudy facade of the Rainbow Bridge Casino, the biggest gambling institution in the Eastern Archipelago. Set in magnificent splendour on a promontory overlooking Berk Harbour, the building was a shining temple worshipping every form of gaming. The glittering facade was mock-Gothic, made of cream sandstone with the interior of gleaming white marble populated by gamblers, gamers, socialites and locals just coming in for fun. There were private salons, two bars, a small but exclusive restaurant, the main gambling lounge and of course, the huge slot arcade, a deafening room full of flashing lights, buzzing, bells, whistles, the chink of cash and serious gamblers fixated with feeding the insatiable machines.

 

Cami dropped Hiccup off at the entrance, opening the door and allowing him to emerge before going round to park and watch the latest episodes of ‘Viking Raiders’ on her phone. Straightening up his black, slim-fit tuxedo, he walked in, the lights reflecting off his mirror shades, and headed for the doorman. The stocky shape of Snotlout paced quietly along after him, remaining a discreet distance behind.

 

“Tallon Fury. I have an appointment with Mr Eretson,” the billionaire said and the huge man nodded, his dark eyes sweeping the tall, lean shape.

 

“He’s expecting you,” he growled and conducted the man in, heading directly through the teeming floor of the casino, past tables crowded by eager gamblers, leaning in with eyes fixated on the cards or dice or the roulette wheel. Black-clad waitresses glided between tables, silver trays laden with drinks balanced skilfully as they ensured the customers had no excuse to leave the tables. A roar of victory and disappointment sounded to the left and Hiccup glanced to see a man leaping up, chips spilling from his clenched fists as he whooped in delight. Shaking his head, he continued after the doorman, forcing his gait to be as regular as it could be. The punters parted as they passed into a discreet salon with smaller, more discreet tables with scarlet-clad female croupiers and the gentle sound of a piano playing over the murmurs of bets and counter-bets. Hiccup found himself led to a pristine table at the far side of the room where Eret was sitting, slumped back in his chair with his white tux unbuttoned and his black bow-tie askew. He drained a Scotch on the rocks and looked up, waving the heavy lead crystal tumbler for a refill.

 

“Tallon!” he greeted and straightened up. “Finally, I finally get you into my clutches!” He snapped his fingers. “A glass of Verve for my friend. Nothing but the best for my friend, Fury!” A slender blonde waitress retrieved Eret’s used glass and sped away to replenish his drink. Gesturing expansively, he grinned broadly as Hiccup slid into the seat, seeing the doorman head back and noting that Snotlout had taken station by the doorway-out of earshot for the conversation but close enough in case Eret tried anything hostile.

 

“You have a spectacular place here,” Hiccup told him, smiling. Eret’s grin broadened and he spread his arms.

 

“Only the best,” he said. “A man must be true to who he is-and this is me.”

 

 _Gaudy, superficial, cheating, feeding off the misery of others…yeah, I’ve never heard a truer description,_ Hiccup thought, though his expression remained unaltered. He accepted a crystal flute of the champagne and sipped it thoughtfully.

 

“I am grateful for the invitation,” he admitted. “Though my personal knowledge of such places is very limited, I can see you have spared no expense.” Eret visibly preened.

 

“I am surprised that a man of your substance isn’t a regular,” he commented.

 

 _I spent ten years in a cell, freezing and starving and barely escaped with my life. I would never waste any money on gambling for pleasure because I know exactly why I was in that cell-and your gambling was the reason,_ Hiccup considered silently. “I have other distractions,” he suggested ambiguously as Eret chuckled.

 

“That dark-haired minx,” he noted as he drained his fresh tumbler of Scotch. “I bet she plays dirty.” There was an acquisitive note in his voice and Hiccup stared at his drink, controlling his face carefully. Heather’s imprisonment in Betsy’s and the enforced slavery she had endured was nothing to laugh at, a reason that he would not open his heart to the girl. She was an attractive woman but his role as her rescuer made him uncomfortable, concerned she may feel she was beholden to repay him… And of course, his heart belonged to another woman, one who had thrown it away years earlier.

 

_Except Astrid had been herself, sad and battered emotionally by life but still the woman he recalled, the woman he had loved with all his heart. She confused him, her presence calling to the younger Hiccup who had yearned for a word, a sign from her and who never suspected her betrayal in marrying the man who had betrayed him. And though he had been declared dead, it was the fact that she had chosen Eret that still stabbed his wounded heart so hard._

 

“How’s Fink?” he asked, diverting the topic. Predictably, Eret’s face twisted in anger.

 

“Eret Junior,” he growled and then took a deep breath. “Mending, I believe. I have had our local physician look over him and he agrees with the assessment and prescription of the specialist team from Dragon Island.” Smothering a snort at the concept of a local physician approving the plans of a specialist internationally-renowned unit, Hiccup sipped his champagne again.

 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he replied mildly. Rolling his glass in his hands, Eret nodded to a dealer, who approached and began to shuffle the cards.

 

“You took a risk with my family,” he said in a low voice.

 

“Your son was gravely injured and taking him to Berk General could have left him with permanent disabilities,” Hiccup told him calmly. “I knew that I could get him to expert care faster than anyone else. And his mother and sister insisted on coming. I couldn’t refuse, since both were clearly traumatised.”

 

“I expect to be asked if a man wishes to take my family off island,” Eret told him darkly.

 

“I believe that your wife is an adult and as such, she has autonomy-and the right to make decisions over the welfare of her children,” Hiccup said, sitting back. Eret leaned forward.

 

“They belong to me,” he hissed. “Mine. Do you understand?”

 

“No,” Hiccup said deliberately. “I believe that slavery was abolished almost two centuries ago. I saw a friend in need and I did what was required to help. I really cannot understand why you would object so vehemently that a friend has intervened to save your son and ensure your family was well cared-for.”

 

“You really don’t understand the meaning of another man’s property, do you?” Eret menaced and for a moment, Hiccup felt his anger rise at the tone.

 

“I would suspect you need to check the definition-and that people are not included in that!” he replied tightly, seeing the man’s fists bunch.

 

“Maybe in your fancy circles on Dragon Island…but here on Berk…” he growled.

 

“You still live in the tenth century,” Hiccup retorted, just managing to keep his tone nonchalant. There was suddenly the almost irresistible urge to smash his glass in the other man’s face at such an abhorrent sentiment and only the knowledge that he would destroy Eret much more cruelly kept him in character. “Thankfully for your son, I live in the twenty-first.”

 

“They stayed in your apartment, I believe,” Eret snapped. The implication in his tone was repellant. “You know I could name you in divorce proceedings for adultery…”

 

_And how many women have you betrayed Astrid with? You think I wouldn’t destroy you in court if you were stupid enough to take me on-no matter what your friends may promise? Do you really want this, Eret? Or is your bruised pride overruling your sense?_

 

“While I stayed in the Yacht Club Hotel,” ‘Fury’ corrected him, his tone cold. “I have the resources-they did not. So it was the only decent thing to do.” Eret stared at him with scorn.

 

“And you are a decent man,” he forced himself to say, his tone sarcastic. “Decent, generous, honourable.”

 

“You make them sound like faults,” Hiccup commented, watching the croupier deal both men a hand. Another carefully laid a stack of chips in front of him.

 

“In business, they are,” Eret told him smugly.

 

 _And which one of us has billions in the bank and which has millions of dollars of debt he can’t hope to meet?_ he thought ironically. “Ethics are not weaknesses but strengths,” he replied aloud, cautiously lifting the corners of his cards. Eret chuckled.

 

“Maybe,” he murmured without conviction, checking his hand. There was a slight widening of his smile. “But I prefer to concentrate on number one, not some lofty aspirations…” Hiccup sipped his champagne as the hand played out. Eret had a high pair for his cards and ended up with three of a kind. Playing conservatively, Hiccup folded, denying him the opportunity to inspect his cards and watching as his former friend scooped up the chips.

 

“So what are your aspirations?” ‘Fury’ asked him, his eyes locked on the wide face. This time, Eret’s brows furrowed and then he gave a false grin, raising aggressively. Hiccup played passively and forced him to show a bluff.

 

“To be the richest man on Berk, to be the most powerful man here-First Minister-and have a beautiful wife and a perfect life,” he explained.

 

“I was under the impression you already had most of those,” ‘Fury’ commented dryly. “Your wife and family…” Eret gave a sneer.

 

“We both know my wife is a bitch who scarcely grants me any respect and my kids are both disappointments,” he snapped.

 

“In what way?”

 

“Eret Junior was involved with a very unsuitable girl who I had to warn off-patently a gold-digger,” Eret revealed cruelly, “while Zephyr is a bookworm, average at art and with good school grades but hardly showing enough initiative or respect to her elders.”

 

 _Meaning she’s not keen on marrying Johann as part-settlement for your debts!_ Hiccup thought, his eyes hardening behind the mirror shades. “And yet she strikes me as a shy but intelligent, imaginative and respectful young women. I gather she’s entered the Berk Student competition?” Eret nodded, gesturing for the next hand to be dealt.

 

“I just hope she doesn’t make a fool of herself,” he growled and then glanced up. “Unless you can ensure that she…?” Sipping his champagne again, Hiccup said nothing. “Of course, you can’t say anything in public…but one hand washes the other, eh?” Checking his cards, Hiccup ghosted a small smile.

 

“So I have heard,” he commented and won the hand, betting aggressively and hitting Eret’s chips hard as he revealed a pair of aces. “I wonder if you have any tips on how to handle Atali? She seems a little…needy…” As he had hoped, the casino owner’s dark eyes narrowed as he inspected the billionaire.

 

“Again, you’re getting any ideas about what is rightfully mine,” he warned ‘Fury’, his voice betraying his anger.

 

“Yet you are married to the beautiful, smart and very sexy Astrid, the mother fo your children,” Hiccup taunted him gently.

 

“Cut the yak shit!” Eret hissed. “You knew she was with me. Everyone knew! And yet, you thought that you could just stroll in and steal her from my bed!” Mirror shades tilted up, mocking Eret by concealing the man’s eyes and forcing him to stare into the reflections his own frustrated glare. “I know people…who can make life unpleasant. Or painful.” Feigning ignorance, ‘Tallon Fury’ stacked his chips calmly.

 

“Having a bank balance like an international phone number grants a man certain protections,” he murmured, inclining his head slightly towards Snotlout. “But I am sure you don’t want to fall out over an act of kindness towards your family. And they are _your_ family, after all. They returned to you as soon as your son was released and fit to travel, did they not? And why would a wife and children not return to their loving husband and father?”

 

“Why not?” Eret growled, waving for a further Scotch on the rocks. “So what are your ambitions, Tallon? What plans are you hatching in that secluded palace you built yourself?” Hiccup drained his glass and accepted the replacement that immediately appeared at his elbow, analysing the jealous, covetous tone and laughing inwardly at the willingness with which his enemy took the bait. Eret sat back with a smug smile.

 

“To pay back the kindness and good fortune I have received,” he revealed. “To continue to expand my business and offer more employment and opportunities to the communities we work in. And to help my friends achieve their hearts’ desires…” Throwing his head back, Eret roared with laughter.

 

“We are very different men, Fury,” he commented. “But we are friends. So will you be helping me achieve my desires?”

 

“And what are those?”

 

“I want those aircraft as gifts,” Eret said calmly. Hiccup shook his head, rolling his eyes behind the mirror lenses.

 

“And you know that isn’t going to happen,” he replied more calmly. “It was a business transaction conducted with Dragon’s Edge Aerospace for which you have signed a legally-binding contract. Valuable company assets are not given away as personal gifts.”

 

The crash as Eret smashed his empty glass on the floor was loud in the salon and Snotlout pushed himself upright from where he was leaning against the doorframe. Pointedly, he dropped his hand to his hip and the discreet but obvious holster there.

 

“Then what is the point of being your friend?” he hissed. Giving a slight smile, Hiccup gestured for the croupier to deal again.

 

“Because I am far richer than anyone you know or are likely to know,” he said smoothly. “While you have seven figure debts and a Casino that loses money. And I am offering to gamble with you.” Eret’s eyes widened.

 

“High stakes?”

 

“I’m hardly playing for matchsticks,” Hiccup commented dryly. “Limit?”

 

“Infinite,” Eret breathed and gestured for more chips. “What are you willing to risk?”

 

“What are you?” Hiccup shot back. Eret chuckled.

 

“You won’t get close to me,” he sneered. “I’m a pro.”

 

_With obvious tells, huge debts and a Casino that loses money because you gamble so poorly. Not to mention that Gobber did teach me to gamble when I was in Jotunheim…and the twins love a game as well…oh and Dagur and his men…_

 

“Then this is going to be interesting,” Tallon Fury said, sipping his champagne and beckoning the waitress over. He fished in his pocket and dropped a platinum card on her tray, then scribbled on a slip to exchange some chips. “I defer to your expertise-but I’m still going to play. Shall we start with…say, a blind of a hundred thousand?”

 

oOo

 

It was midnight when he walked calmly through the doors and into the cold night, a very bored Snotlout a pace behind.

 

“So what did that achieve?” the stocky man asked as Hiccup took a deep breath in of the icy, salt-edged air. His head was throbbing with the champagne and the effort of staying concentrated for so long.

 

“I’ve stirred the hornet’s nest,” he said quietly, staring across the harbour at the town that had been his home all his life.

 

“Not wanting to be disrespectful… _sir_ …” Snotlout said sarcastically, “but isn’t that a pretty dumb thing to do?” Chuckling, Hiccup walked to the rail and stared at the lights of the town-and beyond, to the small, dark promontory where Gothi still lived and where his father had died.

 

“Usually, yes,” he admitted. “But I want to keep pressing Eret, to keep him from thinking straight.” He fished out a banker’s draft and handed it to Snotlout, being rewarded by the man’s eyes widening at the number in the box.

 

“Ten million?” he breathed.

 

“Use it for whichever charities your Dad and mine would have approved of,” Hiccup told him calmly.

 

“But ten million…” Snotlout’s hands trembled. “I’ve never held this much money in my life…”

 

“You held the golden crown from the hoard,” Hiccup reminded him with a lopsided smile. “That was worth far more by weight, especially with the huge cut gems in it…” Snotlout blinked again.

 

“Ten million…” he repeated before he looked up. “How did you…?”

 

“No one gambles with Gobber for years and doesn’t end up a complete card shark,” the billionaire revealed. “I’ve learned to completely mask my expressions-while Eret is swarming with tells. I knew exactly what was in his hand every time. So I let him win a couple of pots, make him think he’s winning…and then cleaned him out. I demanded payment before I left and as that is what happens in normal Casinos, he had to pay. I’ve cleaned out all of his personal accounts as well as the Casino reserves.”

 

“Damn,” Snotlout commented.

 

“So now I have legal rights to everything he owns, his house and possessions and company and Casino. I’ve removed all his reserves and hit him personally by dating his mistress and taking his wife and children away. And I’ve out-gambled him. Basically, I have over-matched him in every department and by every measure that he uses to identify his self-worth. He was furious when I left him.”

 

“He’ll be more dangerous than ever,” Snotlout murmured.

 

“He did threaten me-rather clumsily. It was embarrassing since I was sitting there with a bodyguard and have the most feared mercenary unit in the Archipelago on speed dial,” Hiccup reassured him. “He can bluster all he wants-but he is exactly where I want him. Unbalanced and not thinking clearly. A long time ago, that man knew me and he could potentially guess who I am.”

 

“More reason, if any, to stay away from the bastard,” Snotlout grumbled, walking to stand by him and glance at the tall, lean shape at his side.

 

“Eret believes I am dead,” Hiccup said, his voice lowering to a growl of hatred. “He framed me, stole my entire life including my girlfriend and watched the fight that should have ended me. He was there as my ankle was smashed and I barely survived. He was promised I would die of my wounds.” Clear blue eyes flicking down to his cousin’s left leg, Snotlout nodded.

 

“I wish you would just let me or Dagur or someone…you know…” he said in a low voice. “No one would mourn him.” Absently patting his cousin on the shoulder, Hiccup shook his head.

 

“He’s taken almost everything from me-but he correctly noted that I am…a decent man,” he said slowly. “And I have done things that I see in my nightmares, that I regret now and will do until the day I die. But I won’t use my resources to have him killed.” He paused. “I’ll just take everything from him and ensure he does the job for me.”


	30. Consequences

**THIRTY: Consequences**

"I would prefer that you desisted from this ridiculous quest." Viggo's voice was icy and scornful as his dark eyes scanned the reports from his agents on his tablet. Ryker looked up, his cold eyes narrowing at his younger brother's peremptory tone.

"Your preferences are hardly my concern," he replied with equal coolness. "I am not breaking any important laws and while enforcing your vision for Berk is satisfying, I'm hardly likely to become a billionaire being paid to dispose of your little problems." Looking up sharply, Viggo stared at the bulky shape, sitting back casually in his chair.

"And becoming a billionaire is the name of the game?" he asked dryly.

"You have been extremely well remunerated with your houses and cars and bank balances, Johann is literally rolling in riches while I have one home and a modest college fund for my daughters," Ryker growled. "And yet, which one of us is the person taking all the risks. I don't see you getting your hands dirty pulling the trigger, wielding the knife or squeezing the life out of some troublesome peasant who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut…"

"And yet, you do those things so well," Viggo taunted him. "My talents lie in other arenas. While you terrorise sleepy women and children to help Eret get out of his personal debts, I am slowly but surely excising each and every protection the people of Berk can expect from the law. I don't want to rule an island where losers and cripples and lazy, useless members of the population expect to be supported by those of us who actually contribute! So we've taken out the budget for homelessness, disability and unemployment and tightened up laws for every aspect of life."

"So you can look tough on crime by making far more people criminals," Ryker snorted. "Don't you have any conscience about persecuting those who need help?"

"That's why we have Priests and charities," Viggo said coldly. "Lord Drago despises the useless and all I am doing is preparing the way for his ascension to the rule of the Archipelago." Ryker chuckled.

"Assuming these sheep don't fight back," he pointed out.

"That is why we prime them with the promise of tough laws on vagrants, thieves and traitors and a bright economic future that the current government can't provide…" Viggo replied smoothly, sitting back.

"Because you and Johann are undermining ever effort they make to increase the standard of living and prosperity of our people," Ryker chuckled.

"You haven't exactly suffered," his younger brother pointed out.

"But I haven't been valued for the contribution and risks I take either," Ryker growled. "So I will be heading over to Meathead to follow the leads to the Treasure."

"There is no Treasure!" Viggo snapped. Ryker rose.

"Of course I defer to your wisdom, brother," he said sarcastically. "But in case you're wrong, I'll check for myself. And when I've lying on a bed of gold, I'll be sure to thank you for your confidence in my hunch!"

"Ryker! This is a ploy," Viggo told him brutally as he walked towards the door. "Fury is involved-and that man is starting to irritate me. He sticks his nose in where he isn't wanted and his generosity undermines what I am trying to do. He's playing with you."

"He wouldn't even imagine we would dig up his friend!" Ryker growled from the doorway. "No reasonable person would!"

"How do you know?" Viggo asked him. "We know nothing about him-or his friends. I would rather you put your efforts into investigating them…" Ryker chuckled scornfully.

"You worry too much," he scoffed. "But I will assign my best men when we get back from Meathead and dig into his shadowy past!"

Viggo watched as the door slammed and rolled his eyes-and then he tapped a number on his tablet. A tanned, vulpine face appeared, dark hair cropped and a neat goatee on his chin. The man's cold eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"I have a problem," Viggo said without preamble.

"And I have far greater concerns with the upcoming operation," the man sneered.

"Krogan-I wouldn't contact you if this wasn't a direct threat to Lord Drago's plans," Viggo told him in an exasperated voice. "Tallon Fury, the billionaire, seems to be sticking his nose into far too many places that don't concern him." Krogan's eyes glittered in anger.

"And can't you investigate this man yourself?" he scoffed.

"He has the ear of the President," Viggo hissed. "We have evidence that he has had closed meetings with her." Krogan leaned forward.

"Billionaires buy influence," he growled. "And Presidents like to have major employers and donors as friends. Find proof this man is a threat and I will throw everything I have at him. Until then…you will have to deal with your local political rival yourself!" Viggo glared at the screen as it went blank and then rose abruptly to walk to the window and sweep his gaze across Berk.

"Then it's time Mr Tallon Fury found himself under the microscope," he murmured. "Don't rest on your laurels, Fury-if there is something to be found, I will uncover it. No one is as perfect as you seem."

oOo

"HUNG OVER!" Tuffnut's voice boomed round the kitchen as Hiccup rested his head on the table and stuffed his fingers in his ears.

"Thanks, Tuff-I may not have noticed," he groaned. Heather put her bowl of porridge very hard down just by his head, causing him to whine in pain.

"Oh sorry-is your head hurting?' she asked sweetly. He cast her a jaundiced look with a bloodshot eye.

"No, exploding," he rasped. "I think I may be becoming allergic to champagne."

"You know the answer then, dude," Tuff commented, chewing his scorched pop tart with every sign of enjoyment. "Drink whiskey instead."

There was a moment of silence as every eye fell on him in shock.

"Gin, then?" he suggested.

"I don't think that will help," Fishlegs offered mildly, scanning his phone for the latest local news feed and sipping a huge cup of coffee.

"Rum? Tequila? Martini?"

"Tuffnut…" Snotlout said quietly.

"Brandy? Vodka?"

"Muttonhead," Ruff commented, cuffing him on the back of the head hard. "Ingen needs to stop drinking since he's clearly useless at it!"

"Am not!" Hiccup protested, lifting his head and looking green.

"Are too. You get drunk every time and have no idea of your limits!" the female twin told him tartly.

"As a billionaire, I have to maintain my persona and champagne is the only drink for billionaires!" Hiccup protested, swallowing hard against nausea.

"Or sparkling water," Ruff told him, folding her arms and looking unimpressed.

"Yeah, that would have worked with Eret," Hiccup grumbled, stealing Heather's orange juice and slowly sipping the liquid. "He'd have laced it with vodka to make sure I was off my game."

"Snot told us about the gambling thing," Heather added, her tone a little disapproving. "Unlimited stakes poker? What were you thinking?" Draining the glass, Hiccup reached over and grabbed Tuff's second pop tart. The male twin scowled.

"I was thinking my personal bank account contains over a billion dollars so even risking a million or so was worth it…but in the end, Eret isn't a good enough player to offer much competition…" Hiccup replied, munching the sickly treat. "Gods, I can feel my teeth dissolving, Tuff. Did you put extra sugar on it?"

"You know it, dude," Tuff grinned.

"And you always beat us in every game we had on the Barf'n'Belch," Fishlegs commented. "We had the twins check there was no way you could see our cards in fact. Ah…"

"Ah what?" Heather asked, looking over at the husky man. Fishlegs's big face split in a wide grin, his blue-green eyes shining with satisfaction.

"News of the donations has got out there," he reported. "The hospital has released a very fulsome statement thanking Mr Tallon Fury for funding the new scanners, staff and buildings they have been asking for over the last five years. The equipment is already on order and they have announced they will rename the Radiology Department ' _the Tallon Fury Department of Radiological Investigations_ '."

"Doesn't exactly trip off the tongue," Hiccup murmured. Heather swatted his arm.

"I think it's cute," she commented.

"I mean, how would you feel being wheeled into the 'Fury Department' if you were sick? Not exactly reassuring, is it?" Hiccup murmured.

"And it's linked to the piece from the Education Department on the Scholarships and donations you've made to the schools," Fishlegs read aloud, his eyes scanning the article. Ruff walked to his side and peered over his shoulder, wrapping her arms affectionately around his neck.

"There's also an online petition started to make you First Minister since you have done more for Berk in the few months you've been here than Viggo has in over a decade," she read.

"I bet he's impressed by that," Snotlout commented, attacking his bacon and eggs with gusto. Stealing Snot's coffee, Hiccup shook his head.

"It's a direct challenge," he said, sounding more like himself, though still looking green around the eyes. "Another alpha on Berk-with a different offer to the people. Rather than oppression and more and more laws, I'm offering a better life for everyone. But of course, I am not seeking election. I have no ambitions in that direction. I have too much on my plate with my business…"

"So you'll challenge him in the vote in a couple of months," Tuff realised. Nodding, Hiccup rose and poured himself another coffee-and a fresh one for Snotlout. He also refilled Heather's orange juice.

"Eventually. Reluctantly," he said with a lopsided smile. "In the meantime, he'll be digging like mad for dirt on me-or you. So make sure you all have your stories intact. Gustav and Fishlegs have covered our tracks but don't do anything to give Viggo a way in…" Then he paused. "But steer very clear of Viggo or any of his retinue. Don't talk to them, engage with them or-or anything. Likewise Ryker, Johann or Eret."

"You deal with them-all the time," Heather pointed out.

"And it's my plan," Hiccup admitted. "I chose to do this. I don't want any of you endangered. Some of you still have family that could be used against you…" Surprisingly, Tuffnut was on his feet in a moment, pacing round the table and hooking his thumbs into non-existent suspenders.

"My dear Ingen, I think I speak for all of the assembled company when I reveal that we are all fully cognisant of the perils of the present enterprise," he announced in an upper class English accent. "Between us, we know enough of those you have chosen as enemies to understand how ruthless and cruel they truly are. But we are with you to the end. Our mother is safe in our fifth cousin, Graham's, farm up on Verruca Point and Fishlegs has moved his family to Dragon's Edge. Snotlout's father is secure in his yard and Dagur has assigned men to watch him and provide security. It's you we worry about." Clapping the man on the shoulder, Hiccup have a grim smile.

"I've nothing left he can take-but I know to maintain my distance," he reassured his friends. "There's an old saying: he who sups with the devil should have a long spoon. At least I know they're devils…though they don't know what I can do. I'll be careful." But as he walked out of the room, Heather shook her head, her green eyes concerned.

"But he's not," she murmured. "And that woman is trying to manipulate him."

"Ingen is smart enough to play her rather than be played," Ruff reassured her, slumping into the vacated chair and stealing one of Tuff's freshly burnt pop tarts. But Heather shook her head.

"I'm not so sure," she sighed. "I mean, he's spent a lot of time with her, one on one. He's befriended her children. He dashed all the way to Dragon Island to get the son treatment. And he let them stay in his own personal space. You don't do that for someone you don't care for. But he told us he was betrayed and yet…" She shook her head. "I don't think even he knows what he feels for her…but I know…I can _see_ …he does feel something for her. And that is something that Eret and Viggo will exploit."

oOo

The Plaza was full, the population of Berk out enjoying 'Stump Day', an old Berkian holiday whose origins were lost in the mists of time but which even Viggo hadn't been able to cancel due to the riots that had immediately broken out when the proposal was announced. There were stalls selling every possible type of food and the obligatory whole yak and whole boar roasting on a spit over a fire. Burger and hot dog stalls were jammed alongside the 'Viking Pizza' concession, ice cream and cotton candy stalls, face painting, 'design your Viking name/crest' and several artisan and craft stalls. The doors of the Great Hall were flung open with the banners for the High School Art Competition rustling in the light breeze as members of the public, anxious families and judges wandered in and out, inspecting the works and enjoying the venue.

Dressed in a white shirt, linen suit and his trademark mirror shades, 'Tallon Fury' was circulating in the Hall, glancing at the works and observing the families. As expected, Zephyr was there with her mother and brother, her submissions obvious to the billionaire by her unique and polished style. What was heartening was that there were a large number of other entries that varied in quality from average to very good. It seemed that on the island of Berk, there were some fine artists. Calmly, he stopped by every entry and every excited or nervous competition and spared a word, a compliment and a smile, making each feel valued and honoured.

Contrary to his friends' belief, he had thought hard about how to conduct the competition. He had set a set of four criteria for the submissions and specified painting or similar hard image creation. He had excluded photography, sculpture, performance art or installations. And he had gathered a prestigious panel of judges that would render the verdict with himself as only a normal jury member. All had been contacted personally by Tallon with the promise of either fees or a donation to the charity or institution of their choice so that his fellow judges comprised the Professor of Art from Archipelago University, two international Art prize winners from Europe, the Vice-Chancellor from the London University of the Arts and the Director of the New York Museum of Modern Art. He had also included a public vote, where everyone who came to view the exhibits was invited to complete a simple card with the name or number of their favourite painting. Likewise, the artists were all expected to vote-though they were given checklists that precluded them from voting for their own works.

Emerging, blinking in the sunshine, Hiccup found himself grasped by the arm by a trio of bluff, very bearded local businessmen who all greeted him like an old friend and generously bought him a local apple punch as they huddled round him.

"Mr Fury-we want to thank you for all you have done," the first man, a jug-eared bald man with a bushy blond moustache, commented. The man next to him nodded.

"Your generosity has taken us all by surprise," he added. He was solid and portly with a full curly brown beard. "Single-handedly, you have addressed the most glaring deficiencies that our government seems determined to wilfully ignore." Sipping the punch cautiously, Hiccup watched them. These three men were all confident, knowing their lines and working as a team: they had been deputised to speak to him. Then he paused: the punch was incredibly alcoholic and bearing Ruffnut's words in mind, he carefully rested it on the nearest stall.

"I have ample and the causes needed supporting," he managed neutrally.

"And this magnificent competition which offers hope to the most talented youths on the island," the third man said. He was another dumpy man with a long greying brown beard and bright brown eyes. "As do your scholarships and business loans."

"I have no children of my own so I support the next generation the best I can," Hiccup replied. The men shared a look and huddled closer.

"We would ask you to consider running against Viggo Grimborn," the first man said, his voice low. "The First Minister does not seem to have the interests of the people of Berk at heart. Laws are harsh, welfare has been slashed and his cronies seem to be immune to any redress for bad debts or other criminality." The billionaire frowned.

"I am truly flattered by your faith," he said. "But…"

"Please consider," the second man said in a strangled voice. "You are a businessman. You are innovative and compassionate. You are a Berk resident. You actually care."

"And I have a business that takes up much of my time," Hiccup pointed out with a small amused smile.

"I am sure you can split your time between the two," the third man urged him.

"I have no experience in politics," Hiccup added.

"I am sure that public service can be rewarding personally to a man who is already comfortable financially…" the first man urged him. Hiccup patted him companionably on the shoulder.

"I am incredibly grateful for your faith," he said. "But at present, I fear I must decline."

"There are already a thousand signatures on the petition to make you First Minister," the first man reminded him. Making a show about thinking of it, Hiccup sighed.

"When the petition hits two thousand-that's two thirds of the population of Berk-then I will reluctantly throw my hat in the ring," he told the man. "If public feeling is so strong, I will accede to their wishes and challenge the First Minister at the Polls." There was an audible sigh of relief and all three men grinned, shaking his hand so enthusiastically that he thought it would drop off.

"Thank Thor," the second man said, his eyes gleaming with tears of joy. "Then maybe this nightmare can finally end."

"You don't know how much this means to so many people on this island," the third man agreed, swallowing hard. "Things have been so bad the last decade…the days of Mayor Stoick are like a half-forgotten dream. But now, we have hope."

"We'll get you those signatures," the first man promised. "We will call your office when they reach two thousand."

"I am a man of my word," Hiccup told them, feeling curiously ashamed. They smiled and then finally, with another round of thanks and prayers for his wellbeing, they drifted away. Forcing himself to look unconcerned, Hiccup circulated round the stalls, treating himself to a roasted yak sandwich and handing a hundred dollars to the smallholder with strict instructions to provide free food to anyone who looked in need-especially children. And then he turned and headed back for the Great Hall, finding his way blocked by Astrid. His eyes widened and he nodded to her.

"Mrs Eretson," he greeted her warily and her eyes widened in surprise at his formality before she nodded.

"I haven't had the chance to thank you for everything you did for Fink," she told him. He graced her with a small smile. "I am sure my husband has been awkward-he seems to think that something happened between us but I promise, it hasn't come from me…" Her blue eyes were honest and he nodded.

"Your husband is a hypocrite, a liar and a terrible gambler who never intends to honour any debt," he replied evenly. "I despise all of those things." At his remote tone, she took a shuddering breath and then backed up a step.

"I am sorry to intrude," she said softly and half-turned-but without even thinking, he grabbed her arm and gently pulled her back to face him. As her sky blue linen shift dress moved slightly, a sprinkling of black bruises briefly flashed into view.

"Astrid," he said softly as her eyes widened, self-consciously tugging her dress to cover the injuries. "You're welcome." She managed a watery smile.

"I'm sorry if I have offended you,' she murmured. "My children really like you and whatever my husband says-or whatever I have done-please don't abandon them. Fink would really like to say thanks in person but I wanted to check with you first of that would be okay." As Hiccup released her, he gave a small smile.

"Remind him that he is always welcome up at the house-and so is his sister," he said. "Now please excuse me, Astrid. I need to go and speak with the judges. The public vote is at an end and we need to decide the winner." She stood back as he swept past, then stretched her arms out in the warm sun, the rays caressing her pale skin.

"An interesting man," Viggo Grimborn said, walking slowly to her side. "What did he say to you, Mrs Eretson?"

"I thanked him for his intervention to save my son and he replied that I was welcome," she reported dryly. "He is also happy for my son to deliver his thanks in person…on another day." Casting her a cold sideways look, Viggo stared after him.

"You realise that if I am supplanted, your husband will be bankrupt overnight?" he murmured. "I am the only thing that prevents his debtors claiming their dues. Your home, wealth, security and yours children's schooling will end that hour." He grabbed her arm. "So to that end, Mrs Eretson, I want you to tell me everything that passed between you." Staring at the man and wondering if he had an conscience whatsoever, she wrenched her arm free.

"We all make our own mistakes, Viggo-and we all live with the consequences," she told him. "Eret's are pretty obvious. Yours…well let's just say that if there was an election for First Minister, no matter my personal consequences, I would never vote for you!" Then she marched back into the Hall, where the lights and numbers of people would ensure that he would not approach her again. Viggo scowled.

"I doubt you understand the full range of consequences that will bring-but you and these sheep seem determined to find out," he murmured. "And I will enjoy seeing your face when you truly realise what your husband has gambled away."


	31. A Walk To The Brink

**THIRTY ONE** : **A Walk to the Brink.**

"Nothing?" Viggo taunted his brother. "Not even a single penny? How disappointing. I expected you to return in a gold-plated airplane to the very least." The powerful shape of Ryker scowled at his younger brother and mentally counted the ways he could bring him down-if he was so minded. Except, of course, loyalty to family was his creed: no matter what happened, blood was thicker than anything else. Family loyalty was greater than any other force in the Realm for a Grimborn.

"We found further clues," the larger man growled.

"You don't say," Viggo commented dryly, sitting back in his chair.

"Fragments of a map-and a riddle," Ryker snapped. Arching an eyebrow, Viggo suppressed a cruel chuckle.

"And you fall for this child's fantasy," he scoffed. "Brother, your greed is a weakness."

"And your certainty that you are untouchable is yours," Ryker retorted. "We all have skeletons in our closets." Viggo leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes filled with amusement.

"You would do well to remember that-brother," he reminded his older sibling. "And we all have too much to lose." Ryker rose.

"Some more than others," he shot back as he turned to the door. Viggo sighed.

"If you care to attend to your actual duties rather than concentrate on this nonsense," he commented, "maybe you could deal with some rather pressing problems for me." Ryker paused and his cruel face twisted into a scowl.

"What sort of problem?" he asked. The First Minister clenched his fist.

"Someone with ideas above his station," he said. "I think we need to remind him of the way things are run in Berk."

oOo

"Yo! Ingen! You got visitors!" Ruff's voice was casual but listening carefully, Hiccup could hear a smirk and he groaned, grabbed his shades and walked out of his office-to find Nuffink and Zephyr standing self-consciously in the atrium. The young man was grinning broadly and introducing his sister to the others, smiling as Tuff teased him on his riding skills and explaining to Zephyr about his practice sessions with the twins. Face filled with surprise and self-conscious, Zephyr's blue eyes were sweeping over the clean lines and clear light in the room and then she smiled as their host emerged.

"Tallon!" her brother greeted the man, seeing him in casual jeans, an open-necked beige shirt and sturdy work boots. The mirror glasses were still in place but the billionaire smiled as he walked forward.

"Fink!" he grinned, grabbing the younger man's hand and shaking it. Then Fink embraced him warmly.

"Good to see you, sir," he said, his face lit with relief. "You know Zephyr?" Pulling back a step, Hiccup nodded, still smiling as he inspected the young woman. Slender with big blue eyes that painfully echoed her mother's, her pale face framed by her thick auburn hair that was braided casually, she met his gaze and a blush warmed her lightly freckled cheeks. Her hands were clasped nervously in front of her waist, a light green tee-shirt and Berk High hoodie topping her skinny jeans and beat-up Converse.

"I believe we may have met," he said in a teasing voice as she blushed harder. Lowering her eyes, she stared at her feet. "How are you, Miss Zephyr?" Her eyes flicked guiltily up.

"I'm good, thank you," she said and chewed her lip. "Mr Fury…"

"Tallon," he corrected her with a smile. "The courtesy still stands here. Your brother has a standing invitation to come here whenever he needs space from his father-and that extends to you too." Her brow furrowed and a wary look entered her eyes.

"Why?" she asked him, the edge to her voice reminiscent of her mother. Bearing in mind the sensitivity of the issue of Johann and her unspoken concerns that her father may have arranged… _something_ with him without Zephyr's knowledge or consent, Hiccup raised his hands slightly to calm her.

"Because your Dad sounds like a total ass," he said. She blinked. Of all the possible answers, that was approximately last on the list.

"He…you…what?" she mumbled, shocked. Hiccup sighed.

"Fink and I had a little chat…well, quite a long chat…after your father manipulated his girlfriend into dumping him," he revealed. "He looked like he needed a friend. He was already a regular in the woods training with the twins so it was natural to offer him a place to bolt to if he had any further run-ins with his father." He shrugged. "My friends are a pretty eclectic bunch but no less good-hearted and loyal for that. They would offer the shirts off their backs to someone in trouble. And Fink spoke of you often. So I extended the offer to you-not for any creepy reason but because you are a smart, artistic young woman who I think is just as unhappy as her brother in her home."

She looked at her feet.

"Mom's okay…but Dad…he just spends all his time telling me how useless I am and that women really aren't useful for anything except marrying for position and power," she revealed. "But I work so hard. I'm as smart as they guys and I want a life off this little heap of wet rocks. I want to see the world, meet people…have a life. Have _my_ life. But I know in my heart that Dad has some foul plot devised with Minister Trayder to sell me to him, to _marry_ me to him." She wrapped her arms around her body. Quietly, Hiccup grasped her shoulder.

"I…" he began and then he paused. "If you need my help, Zephyr, you call me. Anytime." Her eyes flicked up.

"Tallon…" She smiled, her face lighting and he felt a painful stab through the heart because it echoed her mother so much. "Thanks. I-I may take you up on that."

"And I certainly will," Fink added standing by his sister, his hand grazing hers. "You okay, Zeph?" She nodded.

"And I'd certainly do anything for our Champion," Hiccup added, trying to lighten the mood. The Jury had awarded Zephyr the Prize and she had won the public vote as well. One of the Seniors-a guy named Yaryk-had won the artists' vote because he had persuaded seven of his friends to enter just to vote for him. The Jury had hated his work so though he had smugly stood by Zephyr as she was announced the winner, their comments about her two winning works had been effusive while his had been met by a resounding silence.

"You know half of them thought I only won it because you know my Dad," she murmured wryly.

"Which was why I had the jury," he told her calmly. "And the public and artists' votes. I had one vote and artists are notoriously unpredictable. If I had told them who to vote for, I can guarantee they would vote for anyone but! No, all I had to do was allow your innate talent to shine through. Your works were thoroughly deserving of those prizes!"

"I voted for you in the public vote," Fink whispered.

"And so did I," Hiccup added. She smiled.

"I wanted to thank you," she added. "I know my Dad only thinks that I won because he asked you to let me. I know he considers everything I do a waste of time and effort…but I am grateful. Because no matter what he says, he can't take away from me the fact that people liked my pictures…that the Jury, that people who know what they are talking about, liked my pictures." She looked into his face. He smiled.

"Would you like a walk?" he asked.

"Fink?" she turned to her brother but he was grinning, seeing her relax for the first time in what seemed like forever. Zephyr was brilliant, artistic, intuitive…and totally undermined by Eret. And every time his father tore her down, Fink hated his father a little more. It was one more reason why he had wanted her to properly meet Tallon Fury away from his father's watchful eye: because maybe, this mysterious man who had offered nothing but kindness and support to another man's son without any hope of repayment could provide her with the father figure that she so desperately needed. He squeezed her hand.

"I'm going scrambling with Ruff and Tuff," he said, relaxing. "I've finally been cleared after my concussion and Dad is busy up in the Casino all day. Thor only knows when I'll get another chance. Unless you want me to…?" Immediately, she shook her head.

"You go," she urged him, her eyes softening with affection and then she turned back to Hiccup. "Actually, I'd like to go for a walk with you, Tallon. And maybe I can possibly find some places to practice my landscapes?" He chuckled.

"Believe me-there is plenty of landscape on Berk!" he laughed and glanced over at his friends. "Take care of Fink-and nothing too extreme, Tuff. I organised to get his brain mended: I don't want you scrambling it again!" The male twin looked offended.

"Dude-I would never harm my shining protege," he said. "Though there is an awesome new move I wanna show him."

"Medevac on standby," Hiccup muttered ironically. Then he turned to Zephyr. "Not too late to watch Tuff try to kill himself…" Snotlout walked out and glanced at the group and then rolled his eyes.

"Is there a flyer out for waifs and strays?" he murmured and then softened his words with a smile. "Not that it doesn't apply to all of us…"

"Simon…" Hiccup murmured, using his cousin's real name. Snotlout winked.

"Where you heading?" he asked quietly. "Not that I'm concerned at all, I just like to have some idea where my billionaire charge is going."

"The Cliffs then Thor's beach," he said. "Very picturesque, not too far…and I think Zephyr will love the views…" Her eyes widened and she smiled as he offered her his arm.

"Care for a walk, Milady?"

oOo

It was a pleasant early summer's day, the deciduous woods bright green and the evergreens a glossy deep pine shade with sunlight dappling the grassy ground. Bluebells were clustered amid the shadows, their bowed heads gently nodding in the breeze as the two shapes walked along the dry and clear paths. Zephyr found her eyes trailing up to the tall man at her side, his relaxed face pleasant and unthreatening. In all of her life, she had never really met someone like Tallon Fury. When she had been seated next to him at that incredibly awkward meal at her home, he had been pleasant, kind but reserved enough for her to understand her place as a young woman being indulged by a much bigger player in the game, a powerful man who could afford to spare some kindness to the daughter of his new business partner. Now, she was not so sure who he really was. Her father had been less than happy with Tallon Fury since then, cursing the man as hard-headed and selfish-which Zephyr realised meant that he was not doing what Eret wanted as it was clearly not in his best interest. But Tallon had rushed forward at the competition when her brother's life had hung in the balance and he had taken charge when her father had been absent-as usual. Tallon Fury had taken them to the best place he could find to protect Fink and made sure they were housed, supported and treated with respect and kindness.

"Do you get much of a chance to draw?" she asked him hesitantly and he swung his shielded gaze to inspect her. He smiled.

"Not really," he admitted. "Occasionally, when I'm travelling, I see a view and long for my paints but then I realise that I have other things to do and I have to turn my back on the image, though the colours remained burned on my memory."

"Does it hurt, to leave that part of you behind?" she asked, her voice soft. Even here, she had a pencil and a sketch book stuffed in her pocket because she drew every day. A life without art, without sketching, drawing, painting was unthinkable. It was the only time when she was free, when she could express the true Zephyr rather than the timid young woman her father had ruthlessly forced her to become. Walking for a few seconds, he nodded.

"It's like a constant nag," he admitted. "When I was younger, I always drew. The pictures I drew of my girlfriend, the woman I loved…" His voice trailed to a halt and she stole a look at his face, suddenly pensive and sad.

"What happened?" she asked after an awkward pause. He shrugged.

"We drifted apart," he told her lightly, though there was an edge of pain in his voice. "I still loved her but I guess…some things weren't meant to be."

They walked along quietly for another few moments, topping shallow rise. Suddenly, there was more light through the trees and beyond, the sounds of the ocean. The scream of a gull made them both jump.

"I'm sorry," Zephyr said as he smiled.

"Not your fault," he said easily. "I guess it all happened before you were even born." They broke through the tree line and Zephyr stopped, her eyes wide and mouth open at the magnificent vista. The sea was a deep cobalt blue and lighter azure sky was almost cloudless. Beneath them, the granite cliffs haphazardly slumped around the Bay, the sunlight gleaming off the facets in the rock. He chuckled. "Pretty special, isn't it?"

"It's…amazing," she breathed. "The colours…the cliffs…" She smiled and drew her phone out, swiftly snapping a couple of pictures. His eyebrows shot up.

"You paint from photographs?" he asked, interested. Looking guiltily up, she nodded.

"Sometimes, I try to grab views before Dad can notice," she confessed. "I know it's not the same-you don't get the dynamics of the light and shade-but it's better than nothing. Otherwise, I don't get the chance to get out and find many places to paint." She chewed her lip in thought-and then she gave a small smile. In a flash, she snapped an image of him as well. He chuckled and swiftly slipped the phone from her hand. She curled in on herself, expecting him to sneer at her, to erase the picture and turn away-but instead, he walked to stand at her side and arranged them with the view in the background. Unselfconsciously, he clicked a couple of pictures of the pair together before handing the phone back.

"You-you didn't have to…" she mumbled, staring at the image of herself smiling beside the billionaire, his grin open and genuine.

"No-but you wanted a picture-and I think getting my picture with the High School Art Champion of Berk is pretty cool," he teased her, seeing her blush once more. "I know the best way down to the beach…"

"Hold right there!" A gruff voice had both stiffening and Hiccup instinctively grasped his wrist, thumbing the alarm on his aviator watch before standing between the half dozen armed men who emerged from the woods. Slowly, he raised his hands.

"You know this is private property, right?" he checked as the first man walked forward and cracked the rifle butt across his face. He went down with a groan, the muzzle of the rifle stuffed into his face.

"Shut up," the man growled. He and his friends were all garbed in brown and grey camouflage fatigues, masks over their lower face and visors over their eyes. All were solid, buff men who looked professional. Hiccup knew exactly who their leader was-and who would have sent them.

"Let the girl go," he said. "She's Eretson's daughter. She won't say anything. I'm sure your boss doesn't want to mess with the family of one of his allies." The butt crashed across his face once more and he spat blood. Two men grabbed Zephyr's arms and she struggled.

"Then she'll know to keep quiet about what happens," the man growled, lifting a radio. "Come on up. Package acquired." Hiccup felt hands grab his arms and haul him up as a helicopter rose up the cliff and landed briefly on the cliff top. He felt himself bundled into the aircraft, plastic ties biting into his wrists as he was bound and his heart sinking as he saw the ashen face of the girl as she was shoved roughly to sit beside him. His head was spinning with the blows, blood smeared on the side of his mouth and cheek and adrenaline buzzing around his body as the door slammed shut and the helicopter lifted off.

_Please be watching, Snot._

oOo

The alarm jarred everyone in the house and proximity alerts blossomed across the board. Snotlout felt his alarm buzz at the same time and his eyes widened. Heather and Fishlegs erupted into the security office as the stocky man stabbed the keyboard roughly.

Hiccup's watch contained a locator and every concealed camera sprang to life, detecting the rise of the helicopter and the capture of their friend. Heather's sharp intake of breath was loud in the grim silence.

"How did they get on the property?" Fishlegs asked directly.

"The cliffs and beach are technically public property," Snotlout told him grimly. "He tried to buy them but he couldn't, remember? Grimborn and his Island Council refused."

"So why did he go there when it was unsafe?" Heather asked.

"The girl," Fishlegs told her slowly. "He wanted to talk with her." The woman's eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

"I think he sees some of himself in her," Snotlout interrupted. "He knows that though the father is his enemy, she isn't. The boy as well. And he likes the kids. Damn. His tracker is on but if they take him off-island, he will be much harder to find. I knew I shouldn't have let him go."

"He knew this was a possibility," the husky man reminded him. "He accepted the risk."

"I didn't," Snot growled. "And neither did Zephyr Eretson." And then he sighed. "Okay. Heather-get Dagur in. Call him now. We need to get him back before anything can happen to him." She looked up, her green eyes concerned.

"So what will you be doing?" The stocky man rose and ran his hand over his face.

"I'll be explaining to Fink why his sister is now missing," he said.

oOo

He had been calm for her because there was nothing else he could do as the helicopter ride continued. Zephyr had curled in on herself, terrified and clinging to him because he was the only person she trusted-and somehow the trust of a young woman bolstered him against whatever may come. No less scared-because this stirred all sorts of horrific memories, of being arrested and dragged away to the Prison That no On Ever Returned From-he lifted his chin and inspected his captors. They were all watching him carefully, weapons held expertly and he had no doubt they would harm him if he tried to resist. And he knew what they were capable of because he had done his research into the men that he was pursuing. Though he had never imagined they would be so crude-and so obvious. Behind his glasses, he closed his eyes and he felt himself shiver at all those other images, of fights and deaths and lying in pain and despair in his freezing cell. It would be so easy to slide back there, to let his head regress back to the creature who had struggled in that hell, doing whatever it took to survive. But Zephyr was shaking hard and he forced himself to curl around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. Somehow, the warmth of her body reminded him that he wasn't completely alone.

"Stay close to me and say nothing," he murmured, his voice low. She sniffed and when she looked up, her face was wet.

"Why are they doing this?" she whispered.

"They wanted me," he murmured.

"Why?" He smiled at that, the briefest of grim expressions that disappeared just as quickly.

"I am a billionaire and lots of people think that kidnapping me would pay for a luxury life beyond their wildest dreams," he told her dryly. "Or maybe, business rivals think that threatening me may be an option to discourage me. Perhaps, they think frightening me may work." She gave a small, choked sob.

"Why am I here?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"I don't know," he lied, feeling her press closer against him. He prayed they would be merciful, that the men would have recognised the name of their ally's daughter. And that they had not planned to use her pain to punish him. Swallowing, she looked up and saw the bruising and blood on his face and her eyes widened.

"You're hurt," she murmured, raising her hand to gently stroke his wound. He nodded, his head splitting with a headache.

"I suspect this will be just the beginning," he commented grimly. "Say nothing, Zephyr. Let me do the talking. And don't worry. I won't allow anything to happen to you." It was a ridiculous thing to promise because he and she both knew he had no leverage, no power to make good on his words-but there was a huge part of Zephyr that wanted to believe him. He was calm and reassuring while she was terrified, his presence solid and real as she trembled in fear of her life. She nodded.

"Thanks," she whispered as she closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. He let her press against him as he heard the helicopter begin to descend. He sighed.

"Showtime."


	32. Changing the Rules

**THIRTY TWO: Changing the rules**

 

 

“I am en route,” Dagur reported, his voice calm but edged with steel. The buff man’s reputation was second to none, the leader of the Berserkers, the most infamous mercenary band in the Archipelago and he and his men had scrambled at the first words from his sister. Heather nodded, her eyes red-rimmed. The young woman was distraught, her voice breaking as she explained the situation and the brother in Dagur had felt a jolt of anxiety. He knew all too well how much his sister had invested in Tallon Fury, how much she imagined she loved him. And maybe she did, though Fury believed her affection was born of gratitude and much less healthy for that. The prison guard-turned-mercenary knew that the man he had saved, the man who became Tallon Fury, was profoundly uncomfortable with the situation because he felt she was unconsciously beholden to him. Any relationship with him after her rescue by him from slavery in the infamous Brothel, Betsy’s, would feel _wrong_.

 

“Hurry,” she urged him. “I saw them grab him. They hit him.”

 

“Relax, sis,” Dagur reassured her gently. “No one goes to the trouble of kidnapping someone to just kill them. If they’ve taken him, it’s for a reason. And I think we all know why.”

 

“To warn him off,” Fishlegs said grimly. “He’s exerting more pressure on Viggo Grimborn and on Eret. It’s almost a direct challenge to Viggo’s authority now.”

 

“It _is_ a direct challenge,” Dagur said. “He knew there was a chance that they would behave like this-though he hoped that his connections and worth would protect him.”

 

“The petition for him to stand for First Minister is accelerating,” Fishlegs added slowly. “Viggo could just kill him to protect his position.”

 

“No-we know exactly where Tallon is,” Dagur told him. “That’s where we’re heading.”

 

“How?” Heather frowned.

 

“His watch has a tracker in-he activated it when he put in the alert,” Dagur revealed. “It’s the same tech he uses in his planes. Small and very powerful. And it’s monitoring his vitals. He’s okay-for now.”

 

“Who’s done this?” Fishlegs asked, his voice icy. The husky lawyer was calm and good natured but anger and fear were boiling in his chest at the thought that his friend, the skinny, maimed, frantic ex-prisoner who had proven to be a generous, good and brilliant man, was in danger. Dagur paused.

 

“This will be the work of Viggo,” he said. “Because the men who have taken Tallon are Ryker Grimborn’s crew. The men who enforce his laws and warn off his rivals and anyone inconvenient or troublesome.”

 

“And that certainly includes Tallon,” Ruffnut commented, walking in. She wrenched the helmet off her head and stared at the speakerphone. “He’s been single-minded in his pursuit of his vengeance. You got an ETA, D?”

 

“Thirty,” the mercenary said without hesitation. “Need to make sure we can get into the location safely without tipping them off. These men have killed before and they have done a lot of damage to people who have annoyed them.”

 

“And Ingen has a smart mouth on him,” Ruff commented as the sounds of running footsteps closed. Fink burst into he room, his face stricken, with Tuffnut a few paces behind him.

 

“Where’s my sister? he asked desperately.

 

“With Ingen,” Heather told him honestly. The young man took a breath.

 

“And where is he?” he demanded.

 

“We don’t know,” Fishlegs said as Snotlout walked in, checking his tablet.

 

“They’ve taken him off island,” he reported. “Heading west…towards High Plateau Island.”

 

“Where they have a base-and where they are unlikely to be interrupted,” Snotlout reported.

 

“Can’t we report this to the police?” Fink asked wildly. “He’s been kidnapped, for Thor’s sake! And they’ve taken my sister. She’s not guilty of anything! Surely they must…”

 

“I think…the Police won’t care,” Heather told him softly, resting her hand gently his shoulder.

 

“At best because he’s off island so there would be jurisdictional issues but more likely…because they would be paid to turn a blind eye,” Snotlout commented bleakly.

 

“Then First Minister Grimborn should be able to…”

 

“The First Minister already knows,” Fishlegs commented grimly. The younger man reeled as he stared at the husky lawyer. “We think his men are the ones who have them.” Wildly, Fink looked around.

 

“Why?” he asked, the word exploding from his lips. “How dare he?” His green eyes flashed in fury. “He makes such a big thing of being the man who stands for law and order and now he’s kidnapped Tallon and my sister and…” Snotlout grabbed his arm and held him tight.

 

“Shh,” he said urgently. “Fink-we cannot trust Viggo Grimborn. The man is nothing but evil. And he will not help us. But Tallon isn’t helpless. He’s harder and more dangerous than you know. He can defend himself-and I am sure that he will do everything to ensure that your sister is safe. And we have men on their way to rescue him.”

 

“But why?” Fink sighed, collapsing into a chair and covering his face. “Why Tallon? Why Zeph?”

 

“Tallon is a nuisance, a challenge to their power,” Snotlout told him. “And your sister was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tallon will protect her! Just like he protected you.”

 

“Why should he?” the young man asked despondently.

 

“Because he’s a good man,” Ruff told him kindly.

 

“He puts up with us,” Tuff added. “And he saved our lives when we were smugglers.”

 

“Some of us more than once,” Ruff added, looking pointedly at her brother. Eyes widened in shock, Fink stared at them.

 

“I know he said something but…for real?” he breathed. Tuff nodded.

 

“I know we assumed we were awesome but in fact, I guess we were actually really _really_ muttonheadedly hopeless smugglers,” he admitted with disarming frankness and almost unheard-of insight. “We were being ambushed and should all be dead-but Ingen saved us. He saved us all. So no matter how desperate it looks, I have absolute faith that he will come through.” Heather rested a hand on the boy’s other shoulder.

 

“Pray for him…and hope my brother gets to them in time,” she said. But the young man looked up as he slowly and fearfully withdrew the phone from his pocket.

 

“I gotta tell my Mom,” he sighed. “Thor alone knows what she’ll say.”

 

oOo

 

They’d put bags over his and Zephyr’s heads and hauled them unceremoniously from the chopper, across ground that was uneven and grassy. There was a fresh breeze and the distant sounds of waterfalls. Overhead, there were the screams of gulls, harsh and jarring and the quiet honk of other, less familiar birds. He could hear the soft, panting breaths of the girl as she was hauled along and the sounds of their captors, moving purposefully and directly. He stumbled again and the grips on his arms tightened until there was a sudden loss of sound around him, telling him that he had entered a building. He allowed them the drag him along though his mind was spinning and he could feel panic rising in his chest. He was inside, locked up. Trapped.

 

He couldn’t see the sky.

 

A door slammed shut and he heard the sharp exhale of the girl before they were thrown into a room and the bags ripped off. He hit hard, his balance less than optimal due to his prosthesis and lay there, gathering his breath and allowing his eyes to adjust to the return of light. They were in a small room with a concrete floor, metal walls and no furniture at all. There was no window or any sight of the outside and he felt his anxiety rise more, his body taut as a bowstrong. Zephyr crouched by him, her face ashen and anxious. As he looked, he could see that her eyes were red-rimmed and she looked like she had been crying, though she was plainly trying to appear brave. Slowly, he forced himself to untense a little so he could sit himself up and lean against her, offering what comfort he could. His cheek and chin felt swollen and stiff, bruised badly from the blows he had taken.

 

“Who are they?” she whispered, her eyes darting from wall to wall, trying to find some clue, some sign of hope. Hiccup sighed.

 

“They look like professionals,” he murmured, eyeing the door carefully. He wasn’t sure that they weren’t listening to them and was keen not to reveal what he knew. “Someone has engaged them to snatch me from my own property. You don’t kidnap someone to kill them.” _I hope_. She looked up, her eyes wide.

 

“What…what’s going to happen?” she murmured. He sighed and rubbed his cheek, grimacing at the hot pain.

 

“I suspect I’ll be roughed up and threatened,” he told her, forcing his voice to be calm though his heart was hammering in his chest. She sat on her haunches beside him and leaned against him.

 

“But why?” she asked him quietly. The door slammed open.

 

“Your friend isn’t the hero you seem to think he is,” a gruff voice announced. The huge, solid shape was sheathed in the same brown and grey camouflage outfit, his lower face covered with a mask that muffled his voice slightly. Dark glasses wrapped around his eyes, concealing the dark compassionless depths but Hiccup recognised the shaved head, the rough features and the voice of Ryker Grimborn, though he had met the man officially only once. Quietly, he lifted his chin and stared up into the cold face.

 

“While you are an out and out villain,” he commented dryly. Ryker chuckled.

 

“You’re in no position to talk,” he scoffed, nodding to two men, who entered the cell and hauled the billionaire up. Unconsciously, he tensed, trying to conceal his sudden spike of fear. He knew that Zephyr had felt him tense, the loss of control of his destiny a horrific reminder of those years imprisoned. “How many people have suffered for what you have done?”

 

_Too many have died, though I only fought to save my own life. Not that you would care. You kill for fun, when it’s not necessary but just to ensure you are feared._

 

“None,” he lied. “I practice my business ethically.”

 

“And your private life?” Ryker scoffed as he gestured. Another man grabbed Zephyr and wrenched her to her feet. She struggled.

 

“Please,” she whispered. “Please let me go.”

 

“Let her go!” Hiccup said harshly, his eyes locking with Ryker’s. “She innocent and not involved. Your disguises mean she can’t identify anyone. And she’s the daughter of Eret Eretson, one of the close friends of First Minister Viggo Grimborn. I am sure he would be displeased if you harmed his ally’s daughter.” It was only because he was looking that he noted the flicker of uncertainty cross Ryker’s heavy brow, the faint wrinkle just as instantaneously dismissed.

 

“Then any harm that befalls her is on your conscience,” he sneered as they were hauled along to another room. Both were forced onto metal chairs and their hands tied behind them. Zephyr looked up, trembling as Hiccup gritted his teeth.

 

“I think you need to own up to your own misdeeds,” he told the man. Ryker punched him and his head snapped back, spots dancing before this eyes.

 

“You should mind your own business,” he growled. Blinking, Hiccup dropped his head forward and spat blood.

 

“That’s what I am doing,” he said. “Minding my business, building business contacts, settling into home, giving back to the community…”

 

The next punch was blinding and Hiccup felt his vision grey. Zephyr’s gasp of fear echoed before the world reassembled back in shape.

 

“You’re meddling where you have no business,” Ryker told him brutally. “Berk doesn’t need your type.”

 

“And what type is that?” Hiccup asked thickly. “Businessman? Philanthropist? Art Judge?”

 

“Interfering nobody who thinks he can upset the status quo and try to buy the control of the island,” Ryker snapped, leaning close. “How could you possibly run an island when you can’t even protect this child?” He nodded and one of his men fisted Zephyr’s hair, pulling her head up and exposing her neck. She gasped, her eyes wide and flicking to Hiccup’s battered face. Then she pressed her lips together and looked into Ryker’s masked face.

 

“Why should he need to?” she asked him, her voice hitching with anxiety. “Neither of us asked to be kidnapped. Neither of us wanted this. And no one should be judged by the outcomes of the actions of evil criminals!” Swooping forward, the big man closed his hands around the young woman’s pale throat.

 

“Those are brave words for a stupid little girl,” he sneered, leaning so close she could feel his breath on her face. “Maybe I’ll have a talk to you in private…” She paled and her breathing accelerated for a moment but then there was a calm that settled over her suddenly and her eyes locked with his and flashed with anger.

 

“I would check with my father and Minister Trayder,” she spat. “I believe he has long harboured plans for me and would take very badly to you damaging his property!” There was a long pause as Ryker glared into her face.

 

“You think I care?” he hissed.

 

“You think Johann Trayder won’t kill you?” she replied. “You think he’d ever forgive you touching the prize he’s been cultivating for years?” Ryker’s dark eyes flickered with something cold and very menacing.

 

“You show a lot more spunk than I’d expect for a little mouse,” he breathed. “I doubt Johann would care.”

 

“He’ll care,” Zephyr spat, breathing hard. “And he’ll _kill_ you if you touch me.” Hiccup narrowed his eyes as the man raised his hand and slapped her hard. Instantly, he was up, driving himself forward and ramming his head hard into the bulky man’s solar plexus. Staggering back and gasping for breath, Ryker was met by Hiccup’s foot as he slammed it into his face. Breathing hard, he watched as the big man stumbled forward and punched him to the floor. Rolling away, Hiccup looked up as the man closed his big hand around his throat.

 

“You aren’t as important she is,” he sneered, tightening his grasp and throwing the billionaire back into the seat. “And you need to learn that there are risks to playing any game.” Lifting his head, Hiccup stared at the man.

 

“I believe I know that far better than you,” he said in a low voice. “The risks, the game, the stakes, the penalties. Have you ever paid them?” Ryker’s heavy brows dipped.

 

“You know, you’re a man who appeared out of nothing,” he growled he lifted the man and slammed him so hard into the chair that he felt a sharp pain in his chest and back. “No past. No family. Nothing…” He paused. “Except your friends. Raquel Barf and Tyrone Belch. Heather Shearer. Simon Jorgensen. Finlay Ingerman. Nobodies. Pseudonyms. Losers. And _leverage_.” Glaring up with hatred, Hiccup tried to look as if he wasn’t fighting the urge to lunge furiously at the man. Every other consideration was gone, replaced with implacable rage at a man who would threaten the innocent, people not involved in order to gain an advantage for his brother’s craven and treasonous ambition.

 

“You touch them, you threaten them and I will make it my mission to ensure everything you care for is destroyed,” Hiccup choked, his words thick with hatred. Zephyr glanced over at him in surprise: it was a tone she had never heard the mild-mannered and generous billionaire use before.

 

“You’re in no position to threaten me,” Ryker sneered.

 

“Nor are you,” Hiccup replied, almost ignoring the punch to the side that it earned him. Ribs definitely snapped with the blow.

 

“I have threatened, abused and killed without hesitation,” Ryker breathed, his eyes lighting with cruel amusement. “How do you think Miss Barf or Miss Shearer will cope with the attentions of my men? How long do you think we would take to kill Mister Belch or maim your tame brief? We’ve proven we can get to you. We can come any time and do whatever we want.”

 

Hiccup spat in his face.

 

“And so can I,” he said blackly. “But worse. Because I have no family, no desire to back down and no qualms about doing what I must. You think politics is rough? Try business.” Ryker began to laugh. “And you have a family as well.”

 

The laughing stopped. Ryker turned away and waved a hand to his men.

 

“He’s not longer amusing,” he growled. “Teach him a lesson about what happens if you cross…men more powerful than ruthless than he can imagine.” Looking up and steeling himself as three men closed on him, Hiccup allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and scooted away from Zephyr.

 

 _I’ve met them,_ he thought as the men closed on him. _And they’re the reason why you are all going down._

 

Then Zephyr screamed ‘Watch out!’ and he ducked the first blow as the men closed on him.

 

oOo

 

Like the well-oiled unit they were, Dagur’s Berserkers crawled through the dense woodland of High Plateau Island as they closed on the base. Coming in under radar, they had landed on a small beach on the far side of the isolated rock, checking there was no surveillance or electronic detectors. As part of his job, Dagur had been researching the men who Tallon Fury was targeting so he had already studied every satellite image of the island-including those that were classified by various governments. He had even spoken discreetly to a man who had worked on the complex-before he had helped him vanish from the Archipelago to start a pristine new life in New Zealand. But the fact this mission was unplanned and in full daylight were making him antsy-and he knew that didn’t help his anger management issues.

 

He had plans, of course-laid down in this eventuality because he had Tallon were friends. In fact, he was one of only two living people who knew Tallon Fury’s true name, checked when he worked at Jotunheim as a prison guard because something had moved him about the skinny, beaten man who had been left to die in his cell after improbably fighting the champion and winning an impossible battle to save his life. Tallon Fury-or Hiccup Horrendous Haddock, a man who had been declared dead over sixteen years earlier-was a brave, decent man who had suffered far more than should have been possible for crimes he certainly hadn’t committed. And who had found Dagur’s stolen sister and rescued her.

 

He glanced over to Snorri, his second in command. Despite his name, the man was hard as nails and devoted to his leader. In fact, all of his Berserkers were the best of the best, men trained by the most exacting of military units and then lured away by the promise of adventure, money or freedom. Quietly, they closed on the complex.

 

“We’re coming up on the limits of cameras and detectors,” Snorri murmured as Dagur lifted his radio to his mouth.

 

“Tell me you got this, Gustav?” he murmured as the young hacker who worked for Tallon Fury hummed to himself.

 

“I got this,” the young man said cheerfully. “Confirm they’re inside-western detention area. I’ve sent the schematics to your pad, D. I’m scrubbing surveillance and all alarms and motion detectors in three…two…one…go get him!” Shaking his head at the young man’s enthusiasm, he nodded and they moved forward. Beckoning three men towards him, he nodded to Snorri and in unison, they both lobbed grenades at the entrances.

 

All Helheim broke loose as the doors exploded inwards and the men closest to them were scattered like tumbleweed. Dagur and his men boiled in, their painted faces menacing as they ruthlessly gunned down everyone they encountered. Dagur and his team raced towards the location they were told Tallon was being held while the others ensured their exit was covered. Head down, eyes darting from side to side, he threw himself sideways as he saw a shadow move and his machine gun spat a long burst. There was the splatter of blood and the sounds of a body slumping down.

 

“Are we there yet, Mommy?” the mercenary growled over his radio. Gustav considered.

 

“Ten metres ahead and then on your right,” he reported and Dagur ran forward, seeing the dead man hard by the door he was looking for. Checking the corridor once more, he motioned his men to take up station and then blasted the lock, kicking the door open.

 

Hiccup was lying curled up on the floor, badly beaten. Zephyr had managed to get her restraints off and had gently laid her hoodie over his body, cradling his head in her lap. She had thrown herself over him as the door was kicked in and she looked up, her blue eyes suddenly determined. She flung an arm up as if to ward the intruder off. Giving a sigh of relief, Dagur lowered his gun.

 

“Leave him alone!” the girl commanded them but the man gave his most reassuring smile and crouched down.

 

“Believe it or not, Miss Eretson, I’m a friend,” he said, checking the battered prisoner.

 

“He is, you know,” Hiccup mumbled, his swollen lips muffling his words. “Thanks.” She gave a shuddering breath and he felt her start to tremble. Unconsciously, she gently stroked his hair off his battered face and he glanced up to see her face begin to crumble. He had lost his glasses along the way but hurt as he was, he levered himself up and wrapped his arms around her. With a muted sob, she buried her face in his chest, ignoring the bloodstains on the beige fabric. “Thank you for looking after me, Zephyr,” he murmured as she curled against him.

 

“I knew you would look after me,’ she whispered.

 

“You looked after yourself,” he told her as Dagur glanced over his shoulder.

 

“Not the this isn't charming but you do know there are still some pretty bad men in this complex?” he prompted them as Hiccup nodded. He would rather curl up and sleep for another month, his body screaming at him for the abuse he had endured.

 

“And they’re working for me,” he said evenly, shifting his grasp on the girl to ensure she was wrapped up securely. “Has Ryker gotten away?” Dagur frowned, his eyes narrowing.

 

“I can sweep though we’re not here for a full extermination,” he reminded his friend.

 

“Let him go,” the billionaire said tonelessly. “Kill everyone else.”

 

There was a pause and the mercenary stared at him, the cell filled only with the breathy sobs of the girl.

 

“Are you sure?” he asked as Hiccup gave the slightest sob, stroking Zephyr’s back.

 

“These men kidnapped me from my own property because I was a nuisance to them,” he said in a cold voice. “They took this girl, this innocent and terrorised her-though she’s smarter and braver than any of us would have guessed. She was smart enough to stop them raping or beating her to get at me-but it wasn’t any decency that stopped them, only the threat of retribution by Minister Trayder. And they beat the crap out of me.” He paused and his face hardened. “They threatened everyone in my employ-including your sister-to try to get me to back off. Everyone. And very personally. I was prepared to keep this civilised, Dag-but it seems that they don’t understand the concept. So first, we exterminate these mad dogs and then we have a word with Ryker Kilian Grimborn.”

 

He allowed the man to help him to his feet, gently keeping the girl protected in his arms. Dagur helped him limp to the door and checked the corridor. His men took up station around them as Dagur murmured orders into his radio.

 

“We’ll get you out of here first and then we’ll tidy up business,” the mercenary said, finding the hairs at the back of his neck standing up at the ice in his friend’s voice. There was a darkness there that he hadn’t heard before. Hiccup nodded, his arms still wrapped around the girl through he could barely walk unaided.

 

“Thanks, my friend,” he murmured. “Zephyr needs to be safe right now. She’s innocent-and I want to preserve that.” Nodding but watching the other man carefully, Dagur swiftly led them from the building and summoned his helicopter for the extraction.

 

“And you?” the mercenary asked him softly. Hiccup lifted his chin as the aircraft circled and began to descend. He nuzzled Zephyr’s head and felt her arms tighten around him. His emerald eyes glittered with anger.

 

“I’ll tell you when we get back home,” he said and there was the briefest hint of a waver before he mastered himself. “But there’s going to be a change of plans. I was targeting his greed to take him out but he’s changed the rules. He wants to target those near to me-so I’ll return the favour. And by the time he realises what’s happening, he’ll have no options at all.”

 

-0-

 

**A/N: High Plateau Island is of course ‘New Berk’.**


	33. Open Season

**THIRTY THREE: Open Season**

 

“What the Helheim were you thinking?” Eret’s voice filled the office, his dark eyes glittering with fury as he paced back and forth before the First Minister. He paused and glared at the calm figure seated behind the heavy desk. Viggo made a note on the paper sitting before him and then looked up at the enraged shape.

 

“I believe I was not thinking anything,” Viggo told him, his precise diction cool.

 

“Don’t play games with me, Grimborn!” Eret snapped. “They were your men who snatched Fury. Why did the bastards take my daughter as well?”

 

“Maybe you should ask your daughter why she’s keeping such undesirable company?” Viggo shot back sharply. Stopping abruptly, Eret stared at him in shock.

 

“This isn’t about my daughter-who was there to thank the man who awarded her the Island Art Prize,” he snarled. “This is about those rabid dogs that you employ who snatched a young girl along with their target! Zephyr is my daughter. She identified herself and your men should have left her there and just taken the target!”

 

“You seem remarkably hypocritical when you have used those ‘rabid dogs’ on numerous occasions to warn off undesirable attention and claims from legitimate innocent people who have been cheated by you,” Viggo pointed out, his tone cold and expression exasperated.

 

“Maybe your men should listen to what they’re told and recognise the names of your allies!” Eret hissed. “And she said they threatened her again in the base.” He leaned forward, his hands resting on the desk as he tried to intimidate the First Minister. Losing his patience, Viggo glared at the taller man.

 

“Remove your hands or I will have them removed,” he hissed. Eret sneered.

 

“How?” he retorted. “Way I heard it, Fury took out your best enforcers.”

 

There was an awkward silence and the Casino Owner could see the irritation in Viggo’s face at the hit. Zephyr had been shaken and Astrid had immediately swooped to protect her daughter from Eret’s rough questioning but of the few facts he had gleaned, the most disturbing was that Fury apparently owned his own protection who had no qualms in launching an armed incursion against the kidnappers. Zephyr and Fury had been led away but the chatter of machine gun fire and explosions suggested that the Grimborn enforcers would not be capable of assisting Eret in the future.

 

“Yes,” Viggo growled through his teeth and Eret’s dark eyes widened.

 

“Odin’s Balls-they did wipe them out!” he breathed. Viggo nodded once, his face suddenly like thunder.

 

“My brother had left by the time they arrived-but yes, the rest are gone,” he said coldly and then took a deep breath. “And the news that Fury has his own muscle is disturbing, to say the least. I still need to assess how we can use this to information and whether we can employ this to undermine him.”

 

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Eret taunted him. “Thinking you could threaten a man who is worth more than you and all your friends combined.”

 

“Money doesn’t equate to courage or determination,” Viggo reminded him tightly.

 

“But I think we realise that he owns all of those in abundance,” Eret taunted him. “Tell Ryker I want a word with him. About Zeph. She may not have said much but my wife is very clear what he said-and what he threatened.” Viggo waved a hand dismissively.

 

“My brother appears to be off the grid for the moment,” Viggo lied. “I will forward your message.”

 

“Maybe you should remind him that he and you both have daughters-and that neither of you would accept what you did to my daughter,” Eret sneered. “It was only the threat of Johann that warned Ryker off. But if I see him, I’ll break his jaw. Tell him that!” Then he spun on his heel and walked out as the First Minister watched him with a roll of his eyes.

 

“You really don’t understand that we have bigger problems,” he murmured. “Fury knows that we’re onto him. And I will be astonished if he doesn’t make a counter move. After all, there is only room for one alpha on this island-and I don’t intend to relinquish my position without a fight.”

 

oOo

 

“Mr Fury will be starting with a statement and then he will take questions.” Fishlegs’s mild voice was more steely than usual as he faced the assembled press. Local, Archipelago-wide and international journalists were all crammed into the Great Hall, which Fury had hired for his press conference. The battered shape of Tallon Fury, his horrible bruises on display, was sitting at the centre of the table, facing the Press. Mirror glasses shielded his eyes and he was dressed casually in a dark red shirt and deep charcoal grey suit as he faced the press. It was obvious that Snotlout stood station at the end of the table and he was flanked by the twins as well. Glancing across the room, he gave a small nod.

 

“Thanks for coming,” he announced, his voice a little thick from his split lip but he smiled. “I regret having to do this but I’m afraid this has demonstrated something deeply worrying in the state of this island. Something that no man should be prepared to tolerate-yet which seems to be the accepted way of things here.”

 

He took a breath.

 

“Two days ago, I was kidnapped from my own property. Men entered my estate and took me and a young woman at gunpoint. The young lady-Zephyr Eretson, the winner of the Berk Schools Art Prize who was visiting to discuss her scholarship choices-was terrorised. We were transported off island and when there, I was assaulted.” He gestured to his face. “The criminals indicated they felt my presence on Berk was a nuisance and that I was meddling in affairs that I had no right to. That the governance of the island was the possession of those in power rather than in the remit of the democratic college of Berk voters. And they indicated that they had no qualms in targeting my friends and family if I did not desist.”

 

He leaned forward.

 

“I will not desist,” he said in a low voice.

 

There was silence as Fishlegs looked up and nodded. He mouthed ‘two thousand and thirty seven.’ Hiccup nodded.

 

“It was clear the villains had ties to those in power and were acting on behalf of someone within the power structures,” he continued evenly. “They gave no names and of course, I am not accusing any specific person-since it is evident that those in power have much to lose and would rather tie matters up in court than address such rank criminality. My only crime is to be a public-spirited citizen, a philanthropist who wants to give back to the island that has welcomed me so warmly. But it seems that is enough to make me a criminal in some people’s eyes.”

 

He lifted his head.

 

“This island deserves better. This island deserves someone who cares for the people, who will not tolerate thuggery and brutality, intimidation and cronyism. This island should be a democracy not a dictatorship. So bearing that in mind, I am announcing my candidacy in the upcoming elections for First Minister of Berk.”

 

There was an eruption of sound as all the journalists leapt to their feet, hands in the air and asking questions. Sitting back, Hiccup exhaled, feeling exhausted. This was the highest risk gambit he had made, the one that exposed them all-but his friends had been unanimous in their support.

 

_“You know this will get rough, Ingen,” Fishlegs had said._

 

_“I can back down. They threatened you all.”_

 

_“Hey, we threaten each other on an hourly basis-but you are our friend,” Tuff told him easily._

 

_“And if these guys threaten us, backing down won’t stop them. It will only encourage them,” his sister added._

 

_“I’m with you,” Heather had added._

 

_“To the end,” Fishlegs added as Snotlout had nodded, grasping his cousin’s hand._

 

_“He has to be stopped,” he agreed. “We’re all in this-no matter how far it goes.”_

 

Fishlegs was standing up and taking the first question so Hiccup blinked his attention back to the scrum of journalists as the first one started to ask for more details about his adventure.

 

oOo

 

The press conference had dragged on forever and it had been very clear that Tallon Fury was lagging but he had answered every question with careful precision, never making a statement that could be taken as slander but clearly implicating those in power for his attack. The journalists had been mixed in their responses-some welcoming, some hostile, some desperate for some juicy personal nugget about his obscure private life but in the end, they accepted that they had gleaned all the information they were going to get. So finally, they filed out as the man collapsed back into the chair.

 

There was one person left in the seats, sitting patiently as the storm had swirled and crashed around her. In front of her, the little group slowly began to rise and gather themselves but Snotlout walked over and tapped the exhausted Hiccup on the shoulder. Sighing, he opened his eyes behind the shielding glasses and saw the patient shape. Slowly, he straightened up and glanced at his friends.

 

“Could you give me a minute?” he asked gruffly and after sharing a number of looks, they rose, though Snotlout only retreated about ten yards, refusing to leave his cousin and charge exposed once more. Finally, Astrid rose, her eyes locked on his slumped shape. Running his hand through his dishevelled auburn hair, he sat up slightly and watched as the woman walked slowly forward, her blue eyes locked on his face. She was dressed in a simple navy linen dress with white strappy heels and a clutch purse, her golden hair braided over her shoulder. He nodded. “Mrs Eretson. What can I do for you?” She paused and finished up facing him across the table.

 

“Could we talk? In private?” she asked him quietly. He sighed and gestured at the stocky shape of Snotlout, the bodyguard’s eyes locked on his battered cousin.

 

“I think I may be grounded by my security adviser,” he said with enough chagrin to have her smiling slightly.

 

“Please?” There was an edge to her voice. Quietly, he glanced over to Snotlout who gave him a very old-fashioned look. In truth, he was exhausted and still in pain but there was something about Astrid, about the quiet plea in her eyes that had him pausing. He sighed.

 

“Would you like a coffee?” he asked her, rising stiffly. The flicker of pain on his face had her lunging forward the catch his hand. “Because I really need some caffeine.” She nodded.

 

“Very much,” she said as she moved to his side. He gave a small chuckle.

 

“Your husband may take issue with me walking around holding his wife’s hand,” he pointed out as she scowled.

 

“Screw him,” she growled. “He doesn’t. And he doesn’t care. I’m his trophy, his symbol of victory. And anyway, he asked me to get closer to you.” He danced over to her, seeing the tightness in her beautiful features.

 

“That was before I was tenderised by Ryker Grimborn’s thugs,” he told her softly as they made their halting way through the Great Hall and to the ‘Meade Hall’ Coffee Shop opposite. “Now, I’m probably persona non grata and should be avoided at all cost.” He looked up as they entered the traditional space with its dark wood-panelled walls and floor and light oak tables and booths. Art deco lamps hung over each table. Unsurprisingly, the twins were already in there, having secured a corner booth for their friend and the adjacent table for themselves. A waitress walked over as soon as Hiccup entered, escorting him to the table and taking his order for a caramel latte while Astrid chose a macchiato. Only when the blushing young woman withdrew did he look into Astrid’s azure blue eyes. “Okay, we’re as private as I’m going to get,” he told her.

 

“I wanted to thank you,” she said without preamble. “For what you did for Zephyr.”

 

“What, getting her kidnapped?” he asked dryly. The waitress brought their drinks and the blonde pressed her lips closed until the younger woman withdrew. She shook her head.

 

“She couldn’t stop saying how kind and reassuring you were to her,” she told him and her voice softened.

 

“Was that before or after I had the crap kicked out of me?” he asked her dryly. A small smile lifted her lips.

 

“According to Zeph-both,” she told him, her eyes softening. “I heard you begged them to let her go. That you protected her, attacked her captor to get him away from her. To divert his attentions from her to you. That was very brave and completely…” She sighed and shook her head. “Protecting her is meant to be my job. I-I just wanted to kill the men who snatched her, who hurt her and who tried to take her innocence. Gods, I was to see them _dead_! And I-I can’t say how grateful I am that she is safe…” He managed a small smile and sipped his drink.

 

“She didn’t really need much protection, to be honest,” he admitted. “She was terrified-that was for sure and I did what I could to reassure her-but I knew I was the target. And Ryker threatened to rape her. But though she was scared, she showed she was your daughter. She fought back. And what kind of man would I be if I let her get hurt. They were always going to beat me: ay lease I spared her that.” He rested his glass down. “Astrid-has your husband promised her to Johann Trayder?” Her brow furrowed and she paled but slowly, she gave a small nod.

 

“I think he has,” she whispered. Her lips pressed together and for a moment, there was a desolation in her eyes.

 

“Astrid…” She looked bleak but she shook his head.

 

“Tallon-please,” she sighed. “He’s a terrible gambler. He indulges his mistresses. He uses the Casino as a fund for his gaming. For years. He has no clue about business. He bought the Casino from Johann Trader years ago at an excessively high price-and I am sure that part of the deal for it was my daughter.” She paused and swallowed. “He’s an evil man.”

 

“He’s a powerful man,” Hiccup told her thoughtfully, hearing the infinitesimal break in her voice. Astrid was a strong woman who had survived marriage to Eret-there was no way he could ever imagine there was any love or even affection there now-but the plain fact was that Zephyr was getting older. In fact, she was now the same age as Heather when Johann had taken her and that small portion of Hiccup Haddock that wasn’t the revenge-obsessed billionaire Tallon Fury was trying to remind him that she was in imminent danger. She grasped his hand tightly.

 

“So are you,” she breathed. “Tallon…can’t…can’t you do anything?”

 

He almost broke then, almost revealed it all because he was tired. Tired of hiding. Tired of hating. And tired of denying that she was still the woman he had loved. Whatever had caused her to marry Eret had long since died and she was left as much a prisoner as he had been on Jotunheim, only in a much lighter and more comfortable cage. It was clear to him that she was going to lose her children as well-Fink would have to leave and Zephyr…well, either he smuggled her away or she was taken by Johann for the debts Eret had accepted.

 

_Why would a man sell his own daughter?_

 

“I’m not sure I can,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

 

She withdrew her hand, a disappointed, almost bitter look shadowing her wide eyes.

 

“I’m not sure how long she has before Johann takes her,’ she said shortly. He sighed.

 

“Astrid-if I can do something for her, I will,” he promised. “But at the moment, I have more pressing concerns with the Grimborns. Ryker wouldn’t make a move without Viggo’s orders so I know that I am on their most wanted list. Viggo sees me as a rival and we all know what happens to his rivals. So I either back down or fight back.” Then he stared into her eyes. “And I’m not backing down.”

 

“People who challenge Viggo end up imprisoned or dead,” she warned him.

 

 _Done one. Not planning on the other,_ he though ironically.

 

“I’ll be careful,” he told her with a small smile and for a moment her eyes glittered.

 

“I wasn’t asking you to be,” she reminded him.

 

“But I will anyway,” he reminded her. She sighed.

 

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d make a better First Minister than Viggo,” she said. He shrugged.

 

“I would say I couldn’t be worse but I never believe in tempting fate,” he replied smoothly and then grinned. “I am willing to try and do better than he does.” She nodded, a small smile lifting her lips.

 

“I think that’s good enough,” she confessed. “And for the record, I’d vote for you.”

 

“I may hold you to that,” he quipped as she rose and drained her cup.

 

“And if I hear anything that hints at something like…what happened, I promise I will let you know,” she added fiercely. He looked up into her determined face and caught her hand again-just for a second.

 

“Be careful,” he told her gravely. “Don’t put yourself at risk for me. I have protection.” She smiled and disentangled her hand from his once more.

 

“Now it’s my turned to tell you that I’ll be careful,” she reassured him and turned to the door. “Thank you, Mr Fury. I really am grateful.”

 

Snotlout, the twins and Hiccup all watched her leave, every eye turning back to the billionaire. Hiccup sank back in his seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. Tuff opened his mouth.

 

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said.

 

“You’re not looking at her like an enemy, Ingen,” Ruff murmured.

 

“And she’s offering to help,” Tuff added. Hiccup shook his head.

 

“Stick to the plan,” he murmured. “She was ordered to get close to me. She’s doing what she was asked.”

 

“Ingen…” Ruff murmured.

 

“It’s too risky for the kids,” Hiccup said quietly and pushed his latte aside. His face set into an implacable mask. “They already tried to harm Fink because of Eret's debts and Zephyr was taken when they targeted me. I’ve declared my candidacy. It’s open season on aerospace billionaires. So it’s finally time I fought back.”


	34. The Wages Of Sin

**A/N: Bonus chapter because you have all patiently waited for so long for some vengeance! This chapter gets dark. Hiccup's revenge kicks in and his men take some very questionable and illegal actions on his orders. Trigger warnings!**

**oOo**

**THIRTY FOUR: The Wages of Sin**

The house was a fine and expensive dwelling, a magnificent six bedroom mansion in an exclusive gated community high above the sleeping town of Berk. The community was secured, monitored and every entrance was videoed and the data cloud-stored but that was little deterrent to a hacker of Gustav's skill. So when night enswathed the community, it was simplicity itself to cut the power, disable the alarms and every security measure and finally pop open the door to allow the shadowy figures to make their way in.

Dagur was in full mask, night vision visor and hood, his similarly anonymous men professional and practiced as they moved through the darkened house. He had a job to do, one he had promised and sworn to do but which made him feel profoundly uncomfortable. Because though the man they were targeting was as evil as they came, their targets weren't. He waved his Berserkers forward and heard the first terrified screams.

oOo

"NOTHING?" Viggo's voice filled his office, his entire body rigid with fury. "There is nothing that I can sue him for?"

His lawyer, a tall thin man with a shock of grey hair and narrow, dark eyes, shifted from foot to foot and stared at the First Minister.

"Tallon Fury was extremely careful in what he said and how he said it," he explained. "He implied but did not in any way accuse you or any specific member of your cabinet or the Council of being behind the attack. All he did was, to generally accused you of neglect to permit the incident to occur."

"He implied that the Council's policies were incompetent," Grimborn fumed, rising and pacing across the office.

"It is a legitimate comment from a man who has been the victim of such an attack," his lawyer, Visian, told him gravely. "It is not a litigable statement!" He paused and considered, trying to gauge the mood of his client. Viggo Grimborn was a ruthless lawyer himself, having made his name as the Public Prosecutor and putting a host of victims away-including one young man on a charge of treason what had made his name. Any defamatory statement was pursued ruthlessly through the courts, suppressing any hint of criticism-because Viggo tolerated scrutiny very poorly. "In fact, the best way to defuse this-and I say this as your friend as well as your lawyer-would be to issue a statement of regret, condemning the attack and vowing to throw your weight behind an investigation into this terrible occurrence."

"I don't regret the attack," Viggo growled. "The man is a stone in my shoe and he needed the reminder that this is not his home. This is my island."

"Actually-this is his legal home," Visian commented quietly, controlling his face with care. "And you have to rise above your annoyance, First Minister. You have to appear at least to have sympathy."

"With this alleged attack," Viggo sneered. "Where is the proof? We only have his word for it…"

"And that of the young women-Zephyr Eretson?" Visian told him in an exasperated voice. "And then there are the bodies…" Pausing by the window, Viggo's eyes narrowed.

"What bodies?" he snapped. "There were no…"

"The statement issued by Dragon's Edge Aero on behalf of Mr Fury details the attack," Visian read. "A secret base on High Plateau Isle was stormed by Mr Fury's personal security detail and all twelve men there were killed. Their bodies were tendered to Central Archipelago Intelligence Services and they will be conducting the investigation." Viggo paused-and then grabbed the nearest chair, screaming in fury as he threw it across his office. Visian scuttled away into a corner as the controlled and icy First Minister rampaged through his office for a few minutes, overturning and wrecking everything. Finally, breathing hard, Viggo glared at his lawyer.

"Find my brother," he hissed. "I need to speak to him now and ascertain how he managed to screw up a simple operation. Then get me every iota of intelligence we have on Fury. I will find every way to discredit him and prevent him from challenging me. And then, it will be time for Mr Tallon Fury to meet an unfortunate accident…"

oOo

A dark SUV with false licence plates glided through the Berkian countryside, heading for the tip of Aching Point, the most Northerly point on the Berkian mainland. The message had told him to come alone and with the proofs they had offered, he had not dared to deviate from their orders by a millimetre. Finally, he pulled to a halt and walked out, leaving the headlamps illuminated to light the rocky path to the promontory. The night was cloudy and smelled of rain and the restless sounds of the ocean were muffled far below. And then he waited.

It was eleven minutes before his contacts arrived, four men with machine guns covering him emerging from the darkness, their faces covered with masks and night vision visors. Slowly, he raised his hands, his buff shape careful not to make any sudden moves.

"Hands behind your back," a man said, his voice altered by the mask. Still staring out to sea, he complied, she yes fixed on the cloudy horizon.

"Are they safe?" he asked.

"You will find out soon enough," the armed man said.

"Are they safe?" he repeated, his gruff voice angry.

"You will see them soon enough," the armed man repeated, snapping cuffs around his wrists.

"You have me," he said. "They're innocent. Let them go."

"We have you but we need your cooperation," the armed man said as two of his fellows grasped the man's arms. He was hauled back as a chopper approached and landed. "And they will ensure that." He struggled then, too late to make any use. He was swept for trackers and three were removed, along with the gun he had concealed in the top of his boot and the knife in his other boot. All were tossed over the cliffs. He struggled furiously as he was forced into the aircraft.

"No!" he roared, fighting. A gun creased his forehead and he slumped, being hauled into his seat and secured. Sitting in the chopper, as masked and anonymous as his men, Dagur narrowed his eyes.

"What happens now depends on you," he murmured. "Which part of your family are you more loyal to?"

oOo

"I and the entire Island Council are appalled by the terrible attack on Mr Fury that has dominated our local news for the last few days," Viggo announced. He was facing the cameras of Archipelago News-Eye on Berk and looked uncomfortable. Usually, his appearances were carefully choreographed photo opportunities or him making a decree from his (now wrecked) office. Yet he had been wrong-footed by Fury and the fact that he couldn't locate Ryker and find out what the Helheim had gone wrong with the…encounter…mean that he was at a serious disadvantage. And unusually, he was scrabbling to catch up with events, rather than shaping them. Thor, he knew that the words sounded wooden and disinterested but there was nothing he could do to add any compassion because he felt none.

 _Tallon Fury deserved what had happened to him. Every single wound and bruise._ Viggo was only sorry that he hadn't been able to witness the beating of a man who was quietly doing everything to undo Viggo's subtle dictatorship and the dependency of the idiot citizens of Berk on their First Minister.

"I have carved my reputation by being tough on criminals and on criminality," he continued, his fist clenched on his lap, so hard that his knuckles were white against the skin. "And I am appalled that a man can be snatched from his home and treated so poorly by a bunch of craven thugs! These men were not under my control-nor did they act in my name. And I will do everything in my power to ensure that these miscreants are brought to justice."

_In a pig's eye. Though I need to speak to my brother to find out what the Helheim happened and how we can spin this to our advantage._

"I offer Mr Fury my condolences and assurances that I will find out who did this and that no one who threatens the security of Berk will get away with it. That is all. I am not taking questions."

oOo

"Real sincere," Heather commented, tossing the remote over to Hiccup. The man was lounging in his recliner chair in the sitting room, the news anchor turning to her 'expert' to analyse the statement for the benefit of the viewers. He nodded, narrowing his eyes.

"The last statement was definitely for me, though," he commented. "No one who threatens the security of Berk will get away with it."

"He's a dangerous enemy," Fishlegs reminded him, biting into his burger. Heather had been cooking, meaning the food was excellent and the rest of the gang merely nodded, mouths full of the excellent fare. Tuff had managed to get salsa smeared on his cheek and his sister was licking melted blue Berserker cheese from her fingers.

"He still doesn't know about D," she commented.

"But he is aware that the bodies of his brother's gang are with CAIS and Special Investigator Throk," Fishlegs reminded her. Ruff adopted a far-away look.

"Hmm…Throkster…what a dreamy hunk of intelligence…"

"Honey!" Fishlegs' voice was hurt but Ruff immediately threw a gherkin at her boyfriend.

"Fishy, my husky hunk-you know I love you to pieces but occasionally I do enjoy window shopping," she chuckled wickedly. The solid lawyer gave a sigh and managed a watery smile. He knew he was easy to tease because he loved her dearly-though he knew she was fiercely loyal and just as devoted to him "Even though I am never going to buy."

"And I am never going to approve anyone else," Tuff mumbled. "Took almost ten years for you to meet the Tuffnut seal of approval…"

"Though you approved of Ingen within weeks when he saved you from ending up barbecued in a volcano," Fishlegs pointed out. Tuff gave a cheesy smile.

"Ingen is exceptional-and made it clear he wasn't interested, except as a friend," he added.

"Well, in my defence, I wasn't-and still aren't-looking for romantic entanglements," he commented honestly, flicking through the channels. "My heart had taken enough of a battering…" There was silence as he looked up to see Ruff staring at him. "And you were more of a sister and friend than a romantic interest ever," he added hastily. Ruff chuckled, seeing him flustered.

"Gets him every time," she sniggered as he eyes trailed treacherously over to Heather, who had stopped chewing at Hiccup's words. She paused and then continued until she swallowed her mouthful.

"Yet you had coffee with Astrid Hofferson," she commented levelly though he could hear the anger edging her voice. Sighing, Hiccup rested the remote down.

"She wanted to speak-to thank me for protecting her daughter and ask me for a favour," he revealed carefully.

"What favour?" Heather asked, her eyes sparkling with anger. Hiccup sighed.

"To keep an eye on her daughter-because she doesn't trust her husband," he said after carefully editing his response. Heather snorted.

"And why is it your concern?" she snapped.

"Because I was asked as a friend," he replied tersely, sitting up straighter.

"She isn't your friend," Heather told him brutally as he abruptly rose to his feet.

_She used to be. And there's a part of me that really wants to be again-but I know it's too late._

"I need to speak to Dagur," he said shortly. "I'll see you later."

As he left, the twins shared a look and then glanced over at Heather, who was glowering. The atmosphere had changed and they wondered if the woman even realised how jealous she appeared of the blonde woman who Ingen had included in his vengeance. And every time they interacted-which was inevitable-Heather grew more agitated. Snotlout sighed and wiped his mouth.

"You will only push him away quicker if you try that," he said simply. Glaring, she turned on him.

"How would you know?' she spat. "He knows how I feel. He knows I love him. And he will realise that I am the best thing for him, the one person who will never betray him, never hurt him…"

"Never listen to him," Ruff interrupted. "He's not interested, Heather. He's just said that."

"And he was wrong," she snapped. "He knows how I feel and he's never shown me anything but love and affection. He's never told me he didn't love me." The others shared a look: they had heard him say the phrase several times. Eventually, Fishlegs cleared his throat.

"Give him the space he needs," he advised her. "He's mired right in the middle of his endgame now. Viggo and Ryker threatened us all by name. He can't allow himself to feel anything because what he is doing will ruin these men-and their families and dependents. He has to focus because if he doesn't, it may all come crashing down. And his entire life is his revenge."

Heather's eyes were stricken and she chewed her lip-but then she slowly nodded.

"Okay," she sighed. "I will wait. But when it's over, when he has nothing left, I will still be here. I love him and I know…that one day, he will realise that he loves me." Snotlout exhaled in relief. They had brought his cousin some breathing space but all of them knew that Hiccup didn't feel the same about the woman. And none of them wanted to be there when he finally had to shatter her hopes.

oOo

He didn't know where he was as they dragged the bag from his head. He had been taken off island again and his brilliantly lit surroundings offered little in the way of clues to his location. He was seated at a trestle table on a metal chair that was bolted to the floor. Opposite him sat a man who was buff and relaxed, his cropped carrot-red hair and green eyes unfamiliar though there were scars and tattoos on his face. He wore the same camouflage uniform as his captors.

"Ryker Kilian Grimborn," the man said, his green eyes now cold as chunks of ice. "You understand why we have brought you here?" Ryker sat back, his broad face arranged in an expression of smug annoyance.

"No," he growled. "You really must have a death wish."

"I could say the same for you," Dagur told him grimly. "From the moment you laid hands on my brother, you and everything you care for…were dead." Ryker sat back and gave a rumbling laugh.

"I don't care who you think of as your…" he began but Dagur leaned forward, his face suddenly contorted with rage as he slammed his palms on the table.

"You harmed Tallon Fury," he shouted. "My brother. So now I repay your assault."

"I don't scare," Ryker sneered. "I am a servant of Drago Bludvist. My brother is First Minister of Berk. I have the Archipelago Trade Minister on speed dial…"

"And yet…none of that is of any value or relevance," Dagur told him simply. "They can't help you now."

"My men…"

"Are in freezers in Dragon Isle in the morgue of the CAIS HQ," Dagur told him. "When we rescued Fury, we slaughtered every one. His blood carries a very high price. One that you have yet to pay." Ryker blinked, dumbstruck for a second before he folded his arms and gave a mocking smile. But just as swiftly, Dagur sat back with a broad grin. "By the way-thanks for the confession."

"I made no confession," Ryker growled.

" _I am a servant of Drago Bludvist,_ I believe you claimed. In fact it was the first thing you claimed. Not a great admission since he's a traitor, convicted and sentenced to death in absentia for crimes against humanity. If I were an agent of the law I would be unimpressed. As a merc, I'm even less so. But it makes what happens next easier." Ryker lurched forward in his chair.

"You have no…"

"Idea?" Dagur asked him, his mouth turned up in a small smile. "No, I suppose not. After all, I don't kidnap people for money, I don't execute them for money, I don't break bones and terrorise families and rape wives and children to punish those who have offended my master." His voice was arctic again. "How could I have any idea about the filth that lurks in your soul?"

"I will see you dead," Ryker spat as Dagur reached beside him and pulled out a brown envelope. Carefully, he pulled out extremely crisp long range photographs date and time stamped. They showed Ryker and Viggo clambering aboard a Night Fury Transport NF-100, the registration number clearly visible on the fuselage. Then he slid a print-out of the transponder data for the aircraft…and then the tracker data from the factory-fitted Dragon's Edge Aero tracker. The visit to Icefell was clearly showed. The return picture was also displayed.

"You may not be granted that chance," Dagur said. "These prove that you have been visiting Icefall-with your brother, the First Minister of Berk. Visiting that location is illegal, punishable by life imprisonment for treason. In fact, your brother made his reputation doing just that, I believe. Sent some poor bugger who visited Icefell to Jotunheim. Met the bastard when I was a guard there-before he died."

"You can't prove anything," Ryker insisted. Dagur chuckled and gestured to the images.

"I have another dozen episodes with full telemetry showing that flights you boarded flew non-stop to Drago, that you violated international law to support a terrorist, a traitor, a man who is a palpable threat to everyone's freedom, security and safety." He smiled. "You cannot refute these. And for these alone, you should be condemned." And then he reached below his chair for another dossier.

"What further fantasies are you peddling?" Ryker scorned. Dagur gave a smile but there was absolutely no warmth in it. He tossed the dossier onto the table hitting with a thud.

"You know, you think that you have been diligent, careful, clean," he said. "You believed you have sanitised all your jobs-but that is a lie. All it takes is more digging, more resources and more patience. Because you didn't kill everyone. There were witnesses. Witnesses who believed there was no recourse, no safety, no hope…because your brother ran Berk." Dagur riffled through the dossier and slowly took out photographs, showing a variety of faces-some scarred by fire or knives or just plain terror-but all of them vaguely familiar to the older Grimborn

"You're fishing," Ryker scoffed.

"Leo Rasmussen-his family was shaken down. Tiril Dale-watched her family killed by your boys. Egil Ulricson. Survived an arson attack that killed his father and the rest of his family, a prominent critic of First Minister Grimborn. Lucas Fenrir. Survived a car bomb that wiped out his family-including his mother, who was suing your brother for dropping charges against the men who raped her. Ella-Marit Stromsted who was pitched into the sea after being raped and watching her family murdered for challenging Grimborn for the First Minister post. Raquel Thorston who saw her family home torched and her father and uncles shot by your men. Tyrone Thorston who saw his family home torched and his father and uncles shot by your men. Hildegaard Gruntsnort who…"

"All liars who will be discredited in court by my legal team," Ryker said smugly.

"No," Dagur told him.

"No?" Ryker sneered. Dagur gave a thin smile.

"There won't be a trial," he said. "You are going to plead guilty. You will admit your crimes. There will be no witnesses, no cross-examination, no mitigation. You will put your hands up and face justice without a single complaint." Ryker burst out laughing.

"And why would I ever do that?" Ryker growled. Sitting back, Dagur gave a small, defeated sigh.

"I really hoped it wouldn't come to this," he said, shaking his head, then waved a hand. A window opened in the wall and Ryker's dark eyes widened with horror and hatred. Three shapes were flanked by the masked and armoured men, machine guns jabbing into the prisoners. Hessian bags were ripped from their head to reveal to sight of his wife, Linda and his daughters Kristin and Nina, in their nightwear, all looking grubby, tear-stained and pale with fear.

"LINDA!" Ryker yelled and tried to rise-but the shackles around his ankles held him in place at his chair. "It's okay-I will right this and then these men will die for daring to…."

"Daring to _what_?" Dagur spat, his green eyes suddenly flat and face twisted in an ugly leer. "All I and my men have done is what you and your team do on a weekly basis: kidnap, terrorise, beat up, rape, murder. Steal peace of mind. Steal freedom. Steal every sense of safety and hope of justice. All we have done is become…you."

Ryker was trembling with fury and rage, his entire being inflamed with the desire to lunge forward and squeeze the life from the man facing him…but the tiny kernel of him that was the husband, the father, the family man who compartmentalised the horrors he perpetrated on a daily basis, was clawing at his righteous anger because all it would do would do is risk the things he loved above all.

_Family before all._

"Not enough for you?" Dagur growled, his eyes still deadly. He gestured and one of his men lunged forward, a large knife pressed against Linda Grimborn's neck. her eyes widened, tears spilling down her pallid cheeks. Her dark brown hair was festooned, moving slightly as she trembled and her lips parted in a futile prayer.

"Please…" she whispered. "Please don't kill me…" Dagur glanced up at the man-Snorri, his most loyal and dependable man-and hoped he was making the right decision. He nodded and the knife moved slightly, blood starting to edge the blade.

"NO!" Ryker shouted, his arm flung out, fingers splayed in desperation. "STOP! Please…don't hurt her…" He sagged back, his head dropped forward. Dagur nodded sharply, though Snorri had already paused. The mercenary could already see the discomfort in his friend's eyes: Snorri was the only man he would even consider asking to help because his men, though mercenaries, despised those who targeted the weak and the innocent. They had all argued against this plan and only Dagur's personal capitol with his men had persuaded them to co-operate with the scheme.

"Then you will do what you are commanded?" Dagur growled. Slowly, Ryker nodded.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Full confession all the deaths, kidnappings, injuries and threats you have committed," Dagur said. "Confession to treason and all the contacts you have had with Drago including what you know of any and all forthcoming plans. You will confess what was in the suitcase you had taken to Icefell, that caused that innocent man to be condemned to die in Jotunheim for treason seventeen years ago. And you will detail all your dealings with your brother, Minister Trayder, Eretson and Drago."

Ryker paused.

"I'm signing my own death warrant if I give you that," he said slowly.

"And your family is dead now if you don't," Dagur told him. Then he paused. "Or maybe not. Maybe we will kill one and then…well, we can let you listen. Maybe you can persuade yourself that it's better that they die from what my men do to them than allow them to be smuggled away and given a new identity…"

Slowly, Ryker looked up.

"You will pay for your crimes but once you have co-operated, your wife and daughters will be removed from the Archipelago and given new lives," Dagur told him flatly. "You will never see them again-but Drago and his allies will never find them either. So you have the choice. You will be convicted anyway-but do you want them to suffer and die or live free?" Then he leaned forward slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Of course, if you fail to co-operate or advance us bogus information, then we will bring them back…and ensure that Drago and Trayder know where they are…" The threat was implicit. For a long moment, Ryker glared at him with naked hatred before he bowed his head.

"I wish I could have two minutes with you," he breathed, his voice redolent with loathing. "I would snap your neck and rend you limb from limb."

"You can imagine you would if it helps," Dagur told him pityingly. "But I would disable you before you got close-and then you would watch your family die before you finally joined them." Ryker stared, breathing hard for a long moment, his face suffused and the mercenary wondered if he would truly follow through. Then he sagged.

"Treat them well," he breathed. "Please."

Dagur waved and the window became opaque. He knew behind there, Snorri and the men would be comforting the women and handing them over to psychologists and support staff before they were put into the witness protection programme. He pressed his lips together momentarily and then nodded, rapping his knuckles on the table. The door behind him opened and two of his men entered, accompanying agents from CAIS and recorders. They set up the cameras and recording devices and then took Dagur's place at the table to begin the interrogation and take Ryker's confession. Behind them, hovering just outside the door, he knew Throk was waiting, ready to take him to task over the tactics.

President Wing was a moral woman-but pragmatic and she had accepted Tallon Fury's offer to bring Ryker Grimborn in. Dagur wasn't sure of the tactics he had agreed to employ-they made even him uncomfortable and he had fought in some of the dirtiest wars-but they had worked as well as expected. The justice of the method was undeniable for it was exactly what Ryker had done to others for years-and he had gotten off lightly, for he and his family were all alive and unmaimed. Though the women would probably require extensive counselling to come to terms with the psychological trauma they had suffered-just as they had innocently (or not?) enjoyed the wages of his sins. And underlying all this was the plain truth was that the Government was losing. Drago and his allies were almost at the tipping point where their influence would exceed that of the President herself.

_"_ _You have to fight fire with fire," Fury had said to her when he proposed his plan. "And I am willing to use the flames. Your hands will be clean. My men will do what has to be done. No one will be harmed. No one will die. And you will have a criminal who confesses and will not oppose his conviction-ever, safe in the knowledge that his family is safe."_

_"_ _You must not kill them," Mala Wing reminded him. "You gave me your word that they would not be harmed._

_"_ _They will be frightened but all will be alive," Fury told her plainly. "And one major player will be gone." The President looked at him appraisingly._

_"_ _You will do this anyway," she realised. He had nodded._

_"_ _I would rather gain intelligence you can use to help gain something positive from this messy disposal but I am prepared to end him without."_

_"_ _Then proceed within my parameters, Tallon Fury," the President had said slowly, running her hands over her face. "What a world this is, that such means justify the ends." Fury sighed._

_"_ _Madame President, I am prepared to claim my own sins and pay my own penance when the time comes-because sometimes the end has to come, no matter how," he said._

Dagur turned back and walked slowly to Ryker, who was watching him closely. He leaned closer to whisper in the man's ear before he left.

"By the way, Tallon Fury says…goodbye."


	35. Stab The Heart

**THIRTY FIVE: Stab the Heart**

"Oh good-a subpoena," Fishlegs commented as he opened the official letter that had been couriered to the house. Hiccup looked up, skating through his emails as they sat companionably in his office, dealing with business.

"Oh?"

"Yup." The husky lawyer checked his watch. "And exactly one hour ahead of schedule."

"I like it when an enemy is prompt," the billionaire chuckled. "What's it for?"

"Eligibility hearing for the Elections for First Minister," Fishlegs read. He frowned. "And he wants to do this in open court?"

"He wants to make sure that everyone knows that the great, generous philanthropist Tallon Fury can never be their First Minister," Hiccup told him with a small smile. Casually, he scooped up his coffee and grimaced at the cold liquid. How long had he been waiting for the courier? "A court of law is a very public place to stop me in my tracks-and all executed through the blind sword of justice."

"Which will decapitate him without him ever seeing it coming," Fishlegs replied, his broad face split by a grin. Hiccup nodded slowly.

"You have the arguments and proofs ready?" he asked.

"They were ready before you ever announced your candidacy," the lawyer reminded him. "You always knew it would come to this with Viggo. You knew he would never allow any challenger and you've done everything to prod him into action." Hiccup's emerald eyes narrowed and he turned to stare out of the window.

"I did what I needed doing to manoeuvre him to this point," he said in an icy voice. "Because he has manoeuvred others and discarded them just like trash. He lied to me and when he said he was going to apply for leniency: instead he set me up. He petitioned for life in prison for me to cover for his and his brother's treason in supporting Drago. And then he took everything from my family as well. So I want to face him in court and I want to stare into his fucking eyes as I see everything he has built and stolen ripped from him!" He turned back. "I want to watch him break and finally learn what it's like to lose everything."

oOo

A pair of legs stuck out from the belly of Tallon Fury's personal helicopter as Cami fiddled to smooth out a slight timing issue with the engines. It wouldn't be obvious to anyone else-except maybe Tallon-but Cami was aware of it and she wanted to be in perfect readiness. If Viggo or his friends tried anything else, she didn't want any doubts in her mind that the 'copter would perform perfectly and keep him safe.

She paused and stared at the mechanism above her, her blue eyes unfocussing. The Archipelago was a confusing mix of modern and traditional, the central government striving to be a modern Nordic administration with high standards of welfare, social justice and equality but each island clung to its past ferociously. Camicazi Sif Freya Amelia Dagmarson Berthsadottir was a case in point, the only daughter of the hereditary ruling family of Bog Island and expected to assume the leadership of her people when she came of age. Bogs were a Matriarchal society, ferociously independent and proud of their no-nonsense feminist ethos but Cami had always wanted more. She had studied as her mother would have expected but in truth, her heart had always been seeking the horizon and instead of going to college, she had gone travelling and out there, she had joined the Joint Archipelago Air Force. All of her sense of duty and adventure had been sated by the choice and she had risen quickly up the ranks, learning to fly anything and everything. Her natural outgoing personality and quick wits had served her well and when her contract had been up after almost a decade, she had returned home with more skills and experiences than she could have imagined. And kicking around back on Bog had eventually brought her into contact with Tallon Fury, a man who intrigued and confused her. And who sometimes-as now-frustrated her beyond words.

"Someone needs a coffee," a familiar voice said and she slid out to see Ruff crouched down, a steaming mug in her hands. Irrespective of the fact it was a warm summer's day outside the hanger, Ruff brought her a coffee every time she was working on the engines. Somehow, the two women had bonded, for neither was a girly girl and they were surrounded almost exclusively by singular and eccentric men in Fury's inner circle. Grinning, she accepted as she sat up and she nodded.

"Thanks," she said and sighed. "I see you didn't let Tuff near the machine."

"Well, I like you so I really don't want your heart exploding from excessive caffeine intake," Ruff smirked.

"I resent the implication that my barista skills are anything less than stellar!" Tuff protested, walking in with a huge steaming mug of coffee. "My own bespoke blend. The Holy Grail of the coffee connoisseur's palate: Tuffblend." And to make a point, he took a huge sip. Then his face froze and he forced himself to swallow. Brow furrowed, Ruff walked up to him.

"Are you crying?" she asked him. He swallowed and his face went red, tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

"Perfect," he choked hoarsely. "Very…smooth…"

"Are your hands shaking?"

"No…that is a perfectly natural caffeine tremor…" Tuff mumbled, almost unable to hold his mug due to the massive caffeine hit.

"What are you muttonheads doing?" Snotlout sighed, walking in with a bottle of sparkling water. "It's almost thirty degrees outside and you idiots are on coffee? Unless it's iced and Tuff hasn't been anywhere near, I'm sticking to water!"

"No one asked you…" Tuff coughed, absently taking another sip of his clearly horrible coffee. He almost choked. Perching on the workbench, Snotlout glanced around.

"You should," he said seriously. "Now can we get on with this? He's not gonna be in with Fish forever?" Frowning, Cami got up and scowled at him.

"What are you up to?" she asked suspiciously. Her fierce loyalty wouldn't contemplate any action against her friend-though she, as everyone, was getting concerned as he descended deeper and deeper into his revenge.

"We gotta have a word about the Gronckle in the room," Ruff said as everyone concentrated.

"Which is?" Cami asked.

"The kids," Snot replied, his blue eyes concerned. "I think we're all convinced that there is an issue there." Tuff sighed.

"You spotted it the first time we met Fink," he reminded her. "The boy has Ingen's eyes."

"Yeah," Cami conceded. "And he's sassy and brave like Tallon as well. But his sister…"

"She's auburn," Ruff said.

"And there're a lot of red-heads in Berk," Cami pointed out.

"Not so many," Snot replied. "And she's his colour. She's left-handed like Tallon…"

"So are one in ten people," Ruff noted.

"…and she's artistic. Very artistic. I mean, Astrid has the artistic aptitude of a brick and Eret is a liar and a user but not an artist. In fact, he has done everything to discourage Zephyr…" Snotlout continued. Cami sat back in the open door to the cabin and sighed.

"What aren't you telling us, Snot?" she asked him thoughtfully. "I mean, you know Tallon from way back. You're his cousin, aren't you?" The stocky man nodded.

"I know we all care for Tallon," he said pensively. "And I am grateful you have respected his desire to leave his former life behind and haven't pried. And…I don't want to say too much. But…" He stared at his feet. "I think he's not seeing the obvious."

"Which is…?" Cami asked, her mind already treacherously joining the dots.

"The kids are Tallon's, not Eret's," Ruff said.

"Without giving everything away-because I know he's kept his former life secret and you have all honoured his wishes-Tallon and Astrid were together before he was betrayed," Snotlout admitted. "Look, I wasn't that close to him but I knew they were in love. Crazy, mad, hopelessly love. He never wanted to spend his life with anyone else and I know she felt the same. Thor, they had been together as friends then lovers for years, close to a decade. He was planning to propose…he'd asked me if I would be his best man if he hypothetically asked so I knew he was thinking about it." He gave a small smile. "I had said yes as well. I think he just wanted to get financially stable…and he was almost there, until Eret took it all."

"Freya," Cami murmured. Snotlout nodded.

"But I knew he and Astrid were at it like rabbits," he said with a wry smile. " So I asked Fink when his birthday was."

"May 29th," Tuff supplied unexpectedly. "I asked as well-and sent him and Zeph presents when they turned seventeen."

"Me too," Ruff added.

"And me," Snot sighed. "But that means that they were born about 230 days after he was arrested." They stared at him in surprise. "Human gestation is about 280 days. They were born about five weeks early because they were twins and Astrid was really sick during the pregnancy."

"Meaning they were conceived when Tallon and Astrid were still together," Cami murmured.

"He could argue that she was betraying him with Eret," Ruff pointed out.

"Would never happen," Snot said levelly. "Look, I can't understand why she married him but Astrid is very like you, Cami. Ferociously loyal, brave, determined…she would never have slept with Eret while she was with H…Tallon. Thor, she would have emasculated him if he even tried! I can only guess that she only did that when all hope of getting…Tallon out was lost and he was declared dead. And I guess neither one knew about them when he was arrested-or they would have brought it up at the trial as mitigation. I guess that the jury wouldn't have sent him away to Jotunheim if they had known. Berk law always takes family into account-and if there are children or potential children involved, he would have been imprisoned closer to home and would have had a chance to appeal and to see them."

"Then why doesn't Tallon…" Tuff asked. "I mean, _we_ all suspected…"

"He doesn't believe it is possible so he will ignore all evidence to the contrary," Snotlout sighed. "He has an internal narrative that he clings to since he learned of her betrayal. And nothing can shift him once he's made up his mind. He's stubborn as a rock!"

"That's for sure," Ruff murmured.

"Tyrant," Tuff agreed. Snotlout rolled his eyes.

"But for Tallon, the only truth, the only reality is that Astrid betrayed him and married Eret, the man who stole everything from him. They had two children together. The children are Eret's…even though they bear him no resemblance at all! And there is no other possible explanation of what happened. His whole mindset and revenge is based on that belief. He can't contemplate any other reality."

"There's none so blind as will not see," Cami murmured. "A favourite saying of my Mom-and her best friend, the former Mayor of Berk."

"Stab the body and it heals but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime," Ruff quoted slowly. "He's blinded by his pain at her betrayal. He still spoke of her on the Barf'n'Belch when we rescued him. It was the only time when he looked truly happy. There was such…love in his voice. But when he came back from Berk, it was gone. Not just at the loss of his father but he never spoke of her again, except with hatred. And though I think he's feeling sorry for her, he's clinging to his pain like grim death. It's what he's clung to as his worst betrayal."

"He knows we were told he had died," Snotlout mused. "Astrid may have been desperate. She doesn't love Eret-that much is certain. She loves her children."

"And she will do whatever she needs to do to protect them," Cami pointed out. "Which may include betraying Tallon again." She sighed. "I know you want this to be a happy ending but Tallon suffered. He's got scars-we know that from seeing him, day to day. Obvious ones, like his leg. And the invisible ones…how many times has he woken screaming? How many times have one of us gone in there and tried to comfort him. What happened to that man was a scandal, a shame upon this country and upon humanity!" She shook her head, her hard expression softening again. "But the feminist in me says she was wronged as well."

"I don't think she wants anyone's pity," Ruff murmured. "I think she's only worried about her kids. Zephyr is going to be given to Johann…I think we all know that. Even though it's the twenty-first century! And Fink…well, Eret hates the boy. I have no idea what will happen but it may damage him irreparably."

"He has us," Tuff commented quietly. "And we will do whatever to save him…from whatever Eret plans for him."

"You know, Tallon said the same thing-which is why Heather almost lost her mind," Ruff sighed. "She's another problem."

"And I think that one may be insoluble," Snotlout sighed, running his hand over his face. "I'll speak to Dagur when he's back. He may have some suggestions."

"But the only cure will be final proof that he doesn't love her," Cami sighed. "And he's told her several times but she just won't listen."

"He won't see that the twins are almost certainly his-and she won't hear him telling her that he doesn't look at her, think of her like that," Ruff groaned. "What can we do with them?"

"Lock them in a room until they realise their mutual…" Tuff suggested and then stopped as the others glared at him. "What? That always works in the movies!"

"And all it would do is hurt Heather worse because her love is unrequited," Cami groaned. "Look, I know her better than the rest of you. I'll try to talk to her…again."

"We need to prove that the kids are Tallon's," Snotlout murmured. "That may give Tallon the legal authority to stop Johann getting his hands on Zephyr and Fink the option to choose who he lives with."

"Maybe taking the children from Astrid may appeal to his desire for revenge?" Snotlout suggested but the twins shook their heads solemnly, the identical movements incredibly eerie.

"He's a fugitive from justice," Ruff reminded him.

"He called himself Ingen because he needs to leave his name behind," Tuff agreed. "He said his name would have to remain dead until he was cleared."

"And what he said meant that he didn't believe that was ever possible," Ruff added. "So he can't ever use a paternity test to take the kids and protect Zephyr-because they would arrest him as a prison escapee. And no matter how horribly he suffered, what good he has done-they would put him back inside. And I think that would kill him." Snotlout drained his water bottle.

"It would," he sighed and shook his head. "So we don't use the paternity test to save Zephyr…directly. But we use it to prove they are his." They stared. "He already loves those kids-I know he doesn't acknowledge that but he would do anything to protect the. Zephyr told Dagur and the police that he protected her, took a beating for her. Gods, he's an idiot…"

"…but he's our idiot," Cami sighed. "Okay. You two-get samples from Fink and Zephyr. Blood, hair, saliva…something we can use. I'll sneak into his room and steal his toothbrush. He'll just blame you two for it anyway…"

"Thanks," Ruff replied ironically.

"I resent the implication…but thanks," Tuff added.

"Fish can organise the DNA test," Cami decided. "He's got access to Tallon's resources as his attorney…"

"If he'll help…" Snot commented. "He may decide attorney-client privilege overrides our duty as his friends…"

"He'll help," Ruff told him firmly. "Or I'll withhold snuggling privileges…"

"…and I could have gone my entire life without hearing those words," Tuff sighed. "You brazen hussy!"

"Dreadlocked weirdo."

"Stinky-haired slapper…"

"ENOUGH!" Cami snapped, finishing her coffee and putting her mug down with a hard bang. The twins both jumped and glared at her. "Fish will help because he cares for Tallon as much as we all do. We keep this a secret from Tallon, though. It may be we need to prove that he has to help the kids at some point…though I doubt he would ever let them suffer for the sins of their parents. He's a good man, who has lost far more than anyone deserved and he would never abandon them. And though he has gained a lot, there are some things that money cannot buy. Including time with his children and the woman he once loved."

Snotlout walked to her side and unexpectedly gave her a hug.

"Thanks," he murmured. "My cousin can't do this because he doesn't know-but one day, we will let him know he has a family." She chuckled and hugged him back.

"You know, you may be a bit of an ass sometimes-but your heart is in the right place," she told him. "You're wrong though." He pulled back.

"I am?"

"He already has a family," she told him, gesturing to the twins, who were bickering, foreheads pressed together as they glared eye to eye. "His found family of people who would do anything for him-because he would and has done everything for us. And all we want is to ensure he gets back whatever he can from the horrible wrongs he has suffered. So even though he believes against all evidence that the kids aren't his, maybe he will relent when he realises that they deserve him as well as he deserves them. And that no matter what his broken heart believes, he has a real family as well."

**A/N: 'Stab the body…" quotation by Mineko Iwasaki.**


	36. Defence and Attack

**THIRTY SIX: Defence and Attack**

Crowds were waiting outside the Archipelago High Court in Berk Town as Tallon Fury arrived. In fact, few cheers rang out as his limousine pulled up, the tinted windows adding to the air of mystery as the familiar shape in the mirror shades emerged, his dark slim-fit black silk suit and white open-necked shirt elegant but casual enough to have a few female admirers gasping and whistling. Heather emerged in a little black dress, also wearing sunglasses in the bright sunshine. Snotlout emerged from the front seat while Cami looked up from the driver's seat and winked, then pulled away as soon as her charges were dropped off by the waiting Fishlegs. Immediately, the billionaire was surrounded by journalists, all hoping for a word before the proceedings.

"Mr Fury-do you resent being dragged through the courts?"

"How will you answer the allegations?"

"Do you think you can defeat First Minister Grimborn?"

Hiccup raised his hands and offered a broad smile, showing no signs of irritation or exasperation.

"The First Minister has to do what he feels is in his and Berk's best interests," he said equably. "Regrettably, I do not agree with his ideas of what is in Berk's best interests. And maybe that is it at the root of this case. He seeks to prevent my ideas for your future prosperity being put to you, the people of Berk and allowing you to make the choice. But I can guarantee that I am fully eligible to stand for election. After all, Berk is my home and all I want is what is best for my home."

"But…what about the First Minister's claims?" a brassy-haired woman asked. Hiccup paused and fixed her with a stern look, his emerald eyes flinty.

"That's why we're here," he reminded her, the humour slipping from his voice. "To test his claims in a court of law." And then he winked. "But- _spoiler_ -he won't win. He has his allegations and I have the truth. And sometimes, the truth isn't what you want to hear and isn't what you want other people to hear but if you play the game of litigation, you have to be prepared to lose."

"Are you prepared to lose?" a reporter from 'YAK MONTHLY' magazine called. He was a typical Berkian-solid and unimaginative with braided Viking hair and a magnificent brown beard. Hiccup turned back towards the court.

"I have already lost everything once," he said. "So I know possessions are fleeting, life is transient. I know exactly what is at stake and I would never have entered this contest if I had not been prepared to pay the price. The question you should be asking is: How much is First Minister Grimborn prepared to lose?" Then he nodded. "Thank you for coming!" And with that, he vanished into the building.

oOo

He sat in the little room they had been assigned outside the court to finalise their case. Fishlegs was already within, dressed in a three piece brown pinstriped suit, a crisp white shirt and spotted green bow tie. Husky and generally thoughtful, he looked stern and on point as he carefully checked his papers and handed the bundle to Hiccup for his perusal in the court. Frowning, the lawyer smiled at his client.

"Are you ready?" he asked Hiccup.

"Are you?" he batted the question back unanswered. Fishlegs shrugged.

"This is what we have plotted for years, Ingen," he murmured. "This is what I trained for, what Grimborn tried to deny me. My face didn't fit and I had this unfortunate knack of finding the holes in his cases. I'm ready. But are you?" Hiccup flipped through his packet and glanced down the first page.

"This is probably the most personal," he admitted. "Because I have to strip away some of my mystique. If we don't win, I'll be almost fatally vulnerable. But Viggo Grimborn has to fall. What he did to Mayor Stoick and the island can never be forgiven."

"What he did to the Mayor's son was worse," Fishlegs murmured. "Are you sure you want me to bring that up?"

"Only if necessary," Hiccup conceded, curiously apprehensive at hearing the details of his conviction and betrayal rehearsed in front of the court once more. "But if it is-go for it." His phone beeped. "And our guest will land in an hour. Is that too soon?"

"No-he's expressed a desire to observe proceedings," Fishlegs mused. "I've already prepared various reports that will counter any arguments Grimborn has but he could still spring a surprise. And Heather and Cami are online and can access whatever you need-I've put them in a room down the Hall. Snot and I will be there with you." Hiccup checked his watch.

"Showtime," he murmured and rose, wishing briefly that he had a tie to adjust. Then he walked to his friend and threw his arms around Fishlegs, hugging him fiercely. "Thanks, my friend. No matter what happens, there is no man that I would rather have with me in this battle. You are my truest friend." Hugging him back, Fishlegs sniffed.

"Right back at you," he mumbled. "Now let's go kill him!"

The two men were joined by Snotlout-who had remained outside the door, making sure that no one interrupted them-and they marched to the courtroom. Hiccup heard the hubbub of the press and public in the gallery grow in volume as he appeared and he adopted his amiable expression and glanced up to acknowledge them. Fishlegs was completely focussed and Snotlout looked grim and in control. Grimborn and his team were already at their table, talking in low tones. The First Minister and his Chief Prosecutor, Iliev Hansson and deputy Prosecutor, Ulf Knutsson, were already ensconced at their table, talking in low voices. They felt confident, on their home turf and secure in the knowledge that the balance was in their favour. Hiccup calmly took his seat and stared ahead.

 _This is for you, Dad,_ he thought silently as he stared at the shield of Berk, placed boldly above the Judge's seat on the traditional dark wood panelling. _I'll protect her for you now._

They all rose when the usher announced the arrival of the judge-and Hiccup snatched a glance over at the First Minister, whose face had gone cold, his mouth a hard, angry line. Judge H Hoark walked proudly into the court and took his seat, his cool brown gaze sweeping over the court.

"Be seated," he said firmly. Viggo was instantly on his feet, his powerful fists clenched and eyes glittering with anger.

"Your Honour, I was given the understanding that Judge Jarg would be presiding, as he has done with honour for so many years over cases of such significance in Berk's courts," he announced loudly. "In a matter so essential to the successful and prosperous future of Berk, it is surely wise that a judge so familiar with the ways of Berk makes the decision…" Hoark chuckled and pushed his half-moon spectacles further down his nose, peering at the irate First Minister.

"Strangely, the Central Constitutional Court of the Archipelago-which has jurisdiction in matters such as this-takes a different view," he announced. "Judge Jarg has been your close associate and friend over the entirety of the eighteen years you have worked on Berk and it is apparent that he is not in any way capable of neutrality or non-bias in your cases. His conflicts of interest are vast and impossible to ignore. So he has, of this morning, been removed from the Archipelago bench in perpetuity and every one of his judgements is in the process of being reviewed."

There was a gasp from the public gallery.

"This is unacceptable!" Viggo growled. "I shall appeal…"

"You cannot!" Hoark snapped. "Assignment of judges is _solely_ the purview of the President and the Central Judicial Bench of the Archipelago. You have been assigned a judge with the necessary skills, expertise, experience and neutrality to render a fair judgement in this case." And then he leaned forward to stare coldly at Viggo. "Unless you feel cheated that the loss of the unfair verdict you had relied on?" Gritting his teeth, the First Minister sat down.

"I merely feel aggrieved that I was not informed of such a major change of personnel in such an important case," he said through gritted teeth. "However, it will make no odds to the outcome." Hoark nodded and looked over at Hiccup.

"Are you dissatisfied with the choice of presiding officer, Mr Fury?" he asked reasonably.

"Not in the slightest, your Honour," he said, nodding. "I am certain the Central Judicial Bench will make precisely the right choice for such a contentious and high profile case. And the decision to avoid any suspicion of bias is vital in reassuring the people of Berk that they are being served honestly." The unspoken words _for once_ hung loud in the court. Hoark waved and sat back.

"Mr Hansson, would you please lay out the particulars of your case as to why Mr Tallon Fury is ineligible to run for the Office of First Minister?" he invited the man. Hansson rose, a severe thin dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes in a sharp black suit.

"The Office of First Minister is a grave responsibility and should be treated as such," he announced. "It should not be open to any interloper to merely walk in and buy. Yet that is precisely what Tallon Fury is doing. He has walked into Berk, purchased a large house and much land at Raven Point. He has joined into Berk society on his own terms. The man is still a partial recluse. And he has made some public donations to great fanfare and his own aggrandisement. He has played on his rescue of a young man injured in a motocross competition and swept him heroically off to specialist facilities on Dragon Island, playing the hero!" Hiccup felt his fists bunch: he had never spoken to anyone about Fink's accident and resented that his private concerns-which had never been intended as any sort of publicity attempt, merely a desire to help a young friend-were being painted as a callow charade. Hansson walked past him smugly, gesturing to his seething shape.

"And suddenly, this adventurer wishes to become First Minister. But in what way has he demonstrated any lasting dedication to Berk? He's been resident here for six months! It could be a fad-here today and then gone next year! There is a minimum residency requirement for First Minster for precisely that reason: six years. He fails abysmally. He is wholly unsuited, unqualified and ineligible for the post." He cast a smug look at Fishlegs and then sat down.

The husky man shuffled his papers and slowly got to his feet, his blue-green eyes hard with his determination. Fishlegs was usually the mildest and gentlest of men but facing this battle, there was a look on his face no Berserker would dare to scoff at. He nodded and faced the judge.

"Your Honour, I am grateful for the opportunity that you have offered me, to argue the case in front of the people of Berk," he said. "And for the record, I do agree with Prosecutor Hansson: the Office of First Minister is a very grave responsibility and should indeed be treated as such. It is not a personal fiefdom nor a possession to be hung onto, denying others the opportunity to serve. Yet too many times has this court and unspecified forces ruled against or forced out anyone who would challenge the present incumbent of the post. There has not been a contested election for the post of First Minister for sixteen years. Sixteen years! That is not only unhealthy: it's a dictatorship."

"Objection! The people of Berk are happy with their leadership."

"They have not had a vote for First Minister for sixteen years! How do you know?" Fishlegs retorted.

"Objection overruled. Let the man speak!" Hoark announced boredly.

"By law, there is meant to be a public vote for First Minister every four years," Fishlegs announced. "But there hasn't been one since Viggo Grimborn took to office. Not one _single_ chance to vote for or against the leader."

"Objection! There were no opposing candidates!" Hansson put in. Fishlegs opened a brown leather-bound book clearly marked 'BERK CONSTITUTION' in gold lettering and turned to the relevant page.

"In the event that no candidate stands against the incumbent, the public votes must still be run, allowing the public to state whether they are 'content' or 'not content' with the incumbent's performance in the role of First Minister. If the majority vote 'not content', the incumbent is by law required to stand down and a new election to be held with at least two candidates for the post of First Minister," Fishlegs quoted. "First Minister Grimborn has failed to hold the legally mandated votes and his term of office is thus void."

"Fascinating though this is, it bears no relevance to the facts of this case," Hansson sneered.

"In fact, it does," Fishlegs told him sternly. "It sets a pattern of behaviour that Viggo Grimborn treats the Office of Minister as his personal possession and will do anything to hang onto it-even ignoring his constitutional and legal obligations to hold votes and prevent intimidation of opponents, allow appropriate public funds for debates and to allow opposing voices to be heard."

"All decisions to defer votes were run through Judge Jarg," Viggo put in.

"Which is why he has been disbarred," Hoark announced. "All those decisions were patently illegal and in direct contravention of both the word and spirit of the constitution of Berk and the Archipelago. I'll allow this line of argument."

"First Minister Grimborn has a pattern of behaviour of deterring any opponent and warning off or buying off those who refuse more subtle means of deterrence," Fishlegs reported. "This was all run through the auspices of your brother, Ryker Grimborn." Viggo looked up sharply, eyes narrowing as the man spoke calmly. "Ryker Grimborn, who has been running his own private 'security force' that has, in fact, been used for threats, intimidation, kidnap and even murder. Ryker Grimborn, who is in custody for murder, intimidation, actual bodily harm and terrorist offences. Ryker Grimborn who has offered sworn testimony as to his actions-including kidnapping and assaulting Tallon Fury _at your direct behest_ to dissuade him from running as First Minister."

Fishlegs handed a confession to the Judge and Hoark scanned it, then nodded so that Fishlegs placed it onto the table in front of Viggo. The First Minister pointedly ignored it.

"I move that information be stricken from the record!" Viggo snapped.

"Denied. You really don't like anyone challenging you, do you Mr Grimborn?"

"Any other fantasies to peddle?" the First Minister sneered. Fishlegs turned back to his table and retrieved another packet of documents.

"This is evidence of Mr Tallon Fury's residence on Berk for the last six years three months and eleven days, proving that he qualifies on residence to apply for the post of First Minister," he announced and laid the documents on the table. Grimborn peered at the lease and snorted.

"These are in the name of Ingen Dodmann!" he sneered.

"And that is my real name," Tallon announced clearly to gasps from the gallery. There were the staccato clicks of the lenses as the reporters snatched the latest scoop. "You can clearly see that I signed that lease for an apartment in Lower Berk just over six years ago, right at the beginning of my journey."

"This could be anyone!" Hansson sneered but Fishlegs gave a smile and opened his second packet.

"There is graphological evidence that it is my handwriting, DNA evidence from the original document and fingerprint analysis, all of which proves I am the signatory," Tallon announced clearly. Hansson inspected the documents and his face looked like thunder as he realised that they had used every single one of Viggo's preferred laboratories, graphologist and technicians for the reports. Objecting to the reports and rejecting their validity or accuracy would open up a hundred cases to appeal.

"This is weak," Hansson snapped.

"But valid," Fishlegs retorted.

"Why Berk?" Viggo snapped. Tallon gave a small smile as he inspected the fuming First Minister. He glanced around.

"I have an affinity to Berk," he revealed. "I spent much of my youth here, up in Raven Point and down in the town, enjoying the brisk weather and our warm hospitality. I love our nine months a year snow with the three months of hail. I love that we have an extra an extra season, 'devastating winter' which like 'even more wintery winter' where you can get frostbite on your spleen-or so I have been told." There was a ripple of laughter from the gallery as the locals recognised the sentiments of someone who had spent considerable time on the island. Tallon looked up with a smile.

"And I have family here-a cousin. So when the time came to stop wandering and settle down, I chose to set down my roots here." He didn't look at Snotlout, instead looking directly at Hoark who had known Stoick and who he prayed to Odin didn't recognise Stoick's son. He had planned this moment shortly after his father had died, knowing that revenge would take time but now that he had the means and motive, he would succeed. He tunnelled for five years to get out of Jotunheim: he knew that he could wait six or more to oust Viggo. So he had used the small amount of money he brought with him to get the apartment as 'Ingen' as a base And he had visited Berk numerous times over the years-in disguise, watching and observing and putting his plans into place. He had been to Berk often enough to ensure he still qualified as a resident…though he had hardly slept, for fear of discovery…even when his business had been taking off and he was becoming a successful billionaire. But sitting here in court, facing the man who had betrayed him and driven his father to his death, made all those sleepless nights worth it.

"The electoral rolls and utilities and rates prove that he has continuously owned and kept the residence throughout the whole six years," Fishlegs announced, ignoring his cogitations. The usage of electricity and gas showed intermittent occupancy-he knew the twins had slipped in as well to visit their family which helped his case. But no phone records: he had kept to a cell phone for the entire time, so there was no trail for Viggo to follow. He blinked and snapped his attention back to the present, seeing Viggo's face twist in fury.

"But you also own an apartment on Dragon Island and at least one other residence by your main development and manufacturing facility," Viggo challenged him.

"And yet, according to the Berk Constitution, you are not required to be solely resident on Berk, merely a resident of Berk," Fishlegs pointed out. "And he fulfils the residency criteria, which was your objection to his candidacy."

"I agree," Judge Hoark commented. "If that is all, I can render my judgement immediately…"

"No, your Honour-it is not!" Hansson snapped. "This man is attempting to buy the First Ministership and his inappropriate ambitions and desires must be thwarted!"!"

"Explain," Hoark snapped.

"This man has started bribing the electorate!" Hansson announced. "He has made generous donations to hospitals, schools, libraries, swimming pools, sports facilities, charitable institutions, galleries, homeless facilities…" There was an outbreak of laughing.

"So philanthropy is now a crime in Berk?" Fishlegs asked in shock. "That's not in the laws or constitutions!"

"But his gifts completely undermine the First Minister's policies…" Hansson argued.

"Policies which starve charities of support, keep the hospital and schools underfunded and degrade the quality of life for all here," Tallon announced, rising. "I approached First Minister Grimborn when I planned to announce my fund to support small business and start-ups and he was completely against any initiative to support new businesses. He felt that would be unfair and would skew the market. Despite philanthropy being an established means of the very wealthy giving back to their communities across the entire _world_ , Grimborn was adamant that he didn't want any generosity messing up his iron-fisted rule."

"I cannot have unregulated goody-goodies throwing money around and giving the public institutions more than I deem they need!" Viggo growled.

"No-you can't," Tallon announced and nodded, Fishlegs flipped open his laptop and the screens in the courtroom came alive with a presentation. "Under your administration, spending on health, housing, welfare, schools, leisure and the arts has reduced by 37% and is the smallest per capita (adjusted) of all the Archipelago Islands." A series of bar charts and pie charts flashed up. "At the same time, restrictive laws, freedom of speech laws and all criminal offences have doubled in the Berkian penal code." More charts. "More people in Berk are arrested for 'treason' under the direct order of the First Minister than the rest of the Archipelago combined."

"I have a proud heritage in protecting our islands from the actions of traitors," Grimborn announced pridefully.

"In fact you made your name on one such case," Fishlegs announced, his eyes sweeping over the rigid shape of Grimborn. "A young man who was accused of a minor infringement, of making a mistake and breaking a prohibited airspace. You changed the charges to high treason with flimsy or no evidence of intent and summarily had him convicted and thrown into Jotunheim prison on Freezing-To-Death for life without parole. You and Judge Jarg refused all appeals despite there being ample grounds to appeal and instead awarded punitive damages against the convict's family on a matter for which, again, there was no evidence and many, many doubts."

"OBJECTION!"

"You started down this route," Hoark commented coldly.

"You used the popularity and notoriety this gave you to stage a coup and oust the previous Mayor (who was the First Minister). The Council voted you First Minister directly from Chief Prosecutor despite that being illegal. You had only two years Berk residency and thus were ineligible for the post. Yet you gripped power and never relinquished it, despite NEVER being elected and ignoring all the requirements for eligibility and constitutional legalities and and requirements."

"I am not the one on trial here," Grimborn said.

"You should be," a new voice said from the doorway as the tall shape of Throk emerged into the courtroom. "Special Investigator Throk, Archipelago Secret Service, your Honour. I am here because the First Minister has finally provided an opportunity to deal with his illegal rule."

"What does that mean?" Viggo snapped and rose to his feet, making his preparations to leave. Throk gestured and the court ushers stood by him, making him resume his seat.

"OBJECTION!" Hansson snapped. "There is already a trial in progress…"

"First Minister Viggo Grimborn's objections to Tallon Fury's candidacy as First Minister is dismissed. Mr Fury is to appear on the ballot for the post next month. In the interim, Viggo Grimborn is removed from the post for blatant and persistent violation of constitutional requirements as he has never been legally elected to the role or held any legal ballots for the role either for election or confirmation of satisfaction. Therefore as of now, Viggo Grimborn is removed as First Minister and all rights, monies, perks, rewards and considerations due to that role are removed dating back to the day of that private illegal Council Vote sixteen years ago. Seize Mr Grimborn's house, freeze his accounts and all businesses until such time as the rightful monies of the people of Berk are returned."

"NO!" Viggo screamed and lurched to his feet. "You have no right! I am the Minister, the ruler of Berk and no one has any right to take it from me! You are all traitors and craven liars…"

"Restrain him!" Throk commanded, walking forward. "It is interesting that you invoke the notion of treason when you condemned an innocent man for treason while you yourself are a traitor!"

There was an audible gasp.

"Judge Hoark-I need you to indulge me and perform an immediate arraignment of this traitor, now he has finally presented himself to the courtroom," Throk announced. "Tallon Fury has assisted the Archipelago Government in informing on his illegal and frequent trips to the traitor Drago Bludvist on Icefell, no longer just prohibited airspace as it was sixteen years ago but the acknowledged stronghold of the deadliest enemy of democracy in the North." Tallon nodded and Fishlegs swapped presentation on his laptop.

"As part of a business deal, Mr Fury sold two aircraft to Mr Eret Eretson, pending satisfactory payment per the legally binding contracts. As no monies have yet been received despite several months passing since the deal, Mr Fury has maintained his rights to collect and record all transponder journeys to add depreciation of worth to any litigation to recover the aircraft in question." Fishlegs flipped up the images. "However, he noted there was a discrepancy between the standard transponder and the unique factory fitted tracker…" A second map was overlaid and a route flashed up in red.

"The red routes are the discrepancies," Tallon said clearly. "These routes vanish on the transponder or are misattributed. Or just stop. When this was brought to my attention, my agents began surveillance and we have recorded twenty-three instances of Viggo Grimborn boarding planes for Icefell, staying between two and forty-eight hours. We can tie him to getting on, taking off, returning and disembarking those flights. And there is no reasonable justification that can be offered for such frequent and persistent criminal acts."

"I was attempting to broker a deal with Bludvist, to maybe defuse the situation that has been boiling between our factions over the last twenty years and avert a war!" Viggo offered smoothly.

"The Archipelago Government considers all contact with Bludvist treason unless as an authorised emissary of the United Archipelago Government-and there are none authorised," Throk announced. "Certainly not an unelected lawyer come First Minister with no experience or skills in diplomacy and no authority to undertake any negotiations. I am shocked you think such a pathetic lie would sway anyone's perceptions! Therefore you are hereby charged with High Treason on top of these charges of corruption and dictatorship. You are remanded into my custody and I apply for immediate extradition to Dragon island."

"GRANTED!" Hoark snapped and slammed his gavel down. "Viggo Grimborn is to be taken to Dragon Island immediately from this court. Freeze all assets, accounts and close off all his offices as of this time."

There were gasps and boos. The people of Berk were on their feet, waving their fists at their former First Minister, shocked at hearing tale of his mismanagement, corruption and treachery.

"Traitor!" The word was yelled from a dozen throats in the gallery as Throk cuffed Grimborn. Viggo glanced up with a furious leer.

"You wanted ruling with a firm hand!" he scorned. "You wanted security, safety, order. I gave you all that and more. And all I asked in return was your loyalty…"

"And the opportunity to run Berk into the ground so we would welcome the traitor Bludvist as a supposedly 'better' option to the current government," Fishlegs announced, standing abruptly. "You destroyed homes, families, careers just so your friends could prosper and you could prepare the way for Drago Bludvist. At last, we will finally get to chose our own leader!"

"Bludvist is coming!" Viggo snarled. "And your pathetic forces will never stop him!" Throk gestured and he was hauled away. Hansson looked up and then glared at the judge.

"I'll appeal!" he threatened.

"Go ahead," Hoark said sharply. "He's being extradited as of now and he is removed as First Minister. The Council Chair will act as interim First Minister until elections are held in three weeks." He slammed his gavel down. "COURT ADJOURNED!"

Tallon Fury rose to his feet and walked to glare one last time into Viggo's eyes.

"You haven't won," the deposed First Minister promised. Tallon didn't blink.

"Yes, I have," he said. "Just be grateful Jotunheim no longer exists so you can't spend time there. I bought it and blew it up." And then he took off his glasses and stared into Viggo's dark eyes. "Goodbye, Mr Grimborn," he said and turned away. "You are not fit to be even mentioned in the same breath as my father. He was a good man. And you…are just trash. And you'll be discarded and forgotten just as easily."

And then he flipped his shades back on and walked out of court into the glare of the cameras, after pausing to murmur a final sentence to Fishlegs.

"Final phase. Call in all our debts."


	37. The Net Tightens

**THIRTY SEVEN: The net tightens**

The frantic phone call that Astrid had received from Margot Grimborn had been garbled and the woman had been hysterical so she had no option but to go over and speak to her. Practical and calm, Astrid didn't really like the First Minister's wife, a woman who hid behind her husband's office that Astrid knew was undeserved and stolen from the rightful holder and who affected airs and graces that she never deserved. Margot had always treated Astrid as if she had been something inferior, a fallen woman rescued by Eret and raised above her station while she had pushed her unattractive daughters forward, scheming to marry one to Fink.

Before she left, Astrid walked up to her room and rifled in her jewellery case, the plain wooden box that she had hung onto despite all attempts by her ostentatious ass of a husband to give her a more elaborate case. This had been given her by her fiancé, the wood inlaid with a delicate pattern and polished beautifully but not elaborate or ornate. It was one of the few things of his that she possessed and she treasured it more than anything. And for years, it had held a secret. Ruthlessly, she had poured the contents out onto the bed and shoved thousands of dollars of gold and gems aside for the folded pieces of paper, tapes and pictures that she had accrued over the years. She stared at them, certain now that this was her chance. She found her hands were trembling as she delicately picked each item up and arranged them in order, then ripped a sheet out of her notepad to explain what the contents were. Then she shoved the lot in her handbag and headed to the door, intending to buy an envelope in town. Carefully, she replaced her jewels and made sure she wore only pieces that Hiccup had given her before casting a look around the room.

Somehow, there was a sense of impending…something. And she needed to be ready to move the moment anything happened-because she had no idea how Eret would react. All she suspected was that Tallon Fury was going to make his move and that all Helheim would break loose.

oOo

She had returned from a frantic visit with the woman later that afternoon, her head splitting and irritated beyond words. Margot Grimborn had just been evicted from her home, her accounts frozen and Astrid had needed to lend her money for herself and her daughters to catch the ferry to Jaegerby and her family. The woman had been hysterical, splitting fury and wailing in a mass of self-pity, bewailing her misfortune and blaming everyone except the obvious candidate: Viggo himself. Somehow, as far as Astrid could make out, Viggo was arrested for treason by flying persistently to Icefell and for corruption by never ever having been elected as First Minister but preventing anyone challenging him for the position over the previous almost seventeen years.

And Tallon Fury had found out. When Viggo decided to attack him in court, the billionaire hadn't lain down and taken it and had fought back, efficiently destroying the opponent and ripping everything from him and his family. Margot was also jabbering that she hadn't been able to get hold of her sister-in-law Linda Grimborn or her nieces Kristin and Nina or even her brother-in-law Ryker Grimborn and for the first time, Astrid felt a thrill of fear. Somehow, Ryker Grimborn-who was a dangerous and violent man who she knew had killed men on behalf of her husband and who had prevented her escaping, restraining her on that ferry-had been removed. His family was gone as well and now his brother, the brutal First Minister was no more. So she had handed the money over to Margot without hesitation because she wanted the woman gone. It was the best for Berk and at least, in some small way, was revenge for how cruelly Stoick had his home and possessions stolen from him.

But not completely-because the man who had lied and stolen, who had shifted his immense debts onto a young man already condemned of a crime he had never committed and had lied to impoverish his father and family, was still free. And that man was Eret. Astrid's husband. The man who believed that he had conned Tallon Fury out of two expensive aircraft and who continued to rack up debts without any intent of ever servicing them. She glanced around as she pulled up the drive and parked before the front door, switching off the engine and staring at the nondescript black sedan and the two men in black suits sitting within. Taking a deep breath, she emerged, grabbed her purse and walked to the door. The men immediately got out and followed her, causing her to speed up and scrabble for the door. The nearest man grabbed her arm.

"Mrs Eretson?" the man said, his voice gravelly and harsh. She looked up and nodded, wrenching her arm free.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice edged with anxiety. Eret dealt with some very bad people and there was always the underlying fear that one day, they would come for her in payment of one of his multiple defaulted loans. The man inspected her like a nasty insect.

"Where is your husband?" he demanded. Astrid took a deep breath as he glared at her.

"Probably at the Casino, though he doesn't share his schedule with me!" she snapped. The man backed her up against the door and slapped an envelope against her chest.

"This is a High Court Order that demands payment of all his debts in full as of tomorrow evening," he growled. "We will take a copy of the paperwork up to the Casino as you suggest to ensure your husband cannot claim he hasn't received the papers. Please make sure he gets the documents." Then he wheeled away as the front door wrenched open and Fink jumped out, pulling Astrid back and balling his fists at the men.

"Leave my mother alone!" he shouted as they stared at him with undisguised scorn.

"How amusing-a little pup, whimpering in protection of his mother," the other man sneered. "Stay out of this, whelp. Unless you have several hundred million in your piggy bank!" Then they wheeled away and got into the car, speeding away down the long drive. Fink closed his arms around Astrid, feeling her tremble and hating how shaky she sounded.

"Are you okay, Mom?" he asked softly, feeling her lean against him. She nodded.

"I'm fine," she murmured, her hand tightening on the Court Papers. "Did you hear?" He nodded, and his face looked grim.

"Looks like Dad's luck has finally run out," he sighed, steering her back into the house. "I'll call Zeph and we can work out what to do. Because I think we all know that there is precisely no chance on Midgard that Dad can pay any of his debts back. We're about to lose everything."

oOo

"The papers were served this afternoon at the house and at the Casino," Fishlegs reported as Hiccup flipped the top off a can of beer and took a long slug. "A bit early for that?" The billionaire shook his head and stared through the window across the vista, the dark blue-green of the norse pines, the vegetation thick and jutting against the cloudless sky. It was a perfect day in Berk, warm and sunny as it was only for a few weeks in the height of summer-but in his mind, he saw that cold and damp day seven years earlier, when piles of grey snow were shovelled aside the grimy road as he walked to that pitiful hovel. His skin prickled with goosebumps as he once more was within Gothi's hut, staring at the sagging makeshift bed and its dying single occupant, the wreckage of a man who had done nothing but spend his life in the service of others. A man whose blind eyes had turned on him in the fading hours as his fever had climbed higher and his grip on life had progressively loosened.

_"_ _Tell Hiccup…it isn't his fault," Stoick had rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. He had tightened his hand around his father's limp paw, feeling the skin scorching with the raging infection that wracked his dying shape._

_"_ _I will," he managed, his voice thick._

_"_ _He was a decent, honourable man…" Stoick managed, licking his lips with a dry tongue. His unfocussed eyes ranged over the cobweb-strewn roof as he tried to frame his words. "He gave his friend every chance. And that Eret took advantage and stole everything. His life, the business, all our assets…but not her. Never her."_

_His throat thickened and he gripped his father's hand tighter, hating himself that he caused any pain to the dying man. But he was beyond misery, beyond anger at the news that the woman he loved had married the man who had destroyed him._

_"_ _I asked her to look after your memory," Stoick rasped, the words garbling as his breathing grew more erratic. "Please tell my boy I love him. No one could…have had a better son."_

_"_ _I know he loved you," Hiccup had murmured softly, his eyes stinging with grief. "Rest. Please rest. We'll get you help…" But the dying man had smiled._

_"…_ _protect Berk…" he breathed. "Don't let them…"_

_"_ _I promise," Hiccup had breathed as the man had slipped into unconsciousness once more._

Closing his eyes, Hiccup drained the bottle of beer and slammed the empty onto the table before the folded his arms and stared out once more.

"How did Eret take it?" he asked. Fishlegs inspected him carefully, his eyes narrowing.

"He threatened the Court Officers and swore he would be onto his lawyers to get the judgement overturned," he reported.

"Good luck with that," Hiccup murmured. "You wrote those contracts. They were absolutely watertight. The only way the judgement would have been overturned is if he had bothered to make the payments on time. Which Eret has failed to do. At all."

"It will be amusing to see what he tries as an argument…though he will be lucky to find anyone to take his case," Fishlegs murmured. "It's already been through the Archipelago High Court-and resoundingly been lost. And word is that he's not that good at paying his lawyers either…" The man had the grace to smile. "I rather enjoyed that case." Glancing back with a smile, Hiccup looked at his friend.

"I think, once this is all over, you will be in incredible demand for your skills as a counsellor and legislator!" he said, his eyes meeting Fishlegs's. The husky man walked to his side.

"I owe all to you, Ingen," he murmured, standing by his friend.

"It was all your own work, my friend," Hiccup murmured. "All I did was provide you with the opportunity that you should have been allowed anyway. And you have repaid me…more than I could possibly imagine." Fishlegs wrapped a tight hug around him.

"All I ask is that you remember the man who you are," he murmured. "The good man who saved our lives. The man who saved Fink and protected Zephyr. The man who cared for a bunch of useless smugglers…"

"…who saved my life," Hiccup reminded him. "I can only do what I can. And I will try to be the man you want me to be…but these people…what they did was so cruel…I'm not sure I can forget."

"No one asks you to forget," Fishlegs said, looking at the lean shape. There was a set to Tallon's expression that showed he was clinging very hard to the memories, a stubbornness that had almost certainly been the only thing that had kept him going throughout the time he was in Jotunheim. Fishlegs knew the man had been a prisoner there-as did the twins-but 'Ingen' had still not shared the details of sentence or his true name. Yet Fishlegs, with access to Tallon Fury's resources and the hints the man had dropped over almost seven years, had carefully and methodically worked it out. Facing him was the only man on Berk condemned of treason, the son of the former Mayor, Hiccup Haddock. And surreptitiously, Fishlegs had dug up everything he could about the man facing him, from his school records to the details of his trial. Everything he had read had made the placid and kindly man's blood boil more and more at the injustices meted out to a man who had done nothing but be decent, hardworking and loyal to his friends and family. Finally, he had understood why Ingen/Tallon/Hiccup had been so set on his vengeance and why he loathed Eret so much. And then he sighed.

"I just ask you to recall the man has left other victims." Tallon Fury looked up at Fishlegs's soft words, his emerald eyes briefly hinting at guilt.

"I know," he murmured. "But I can't see any way of sparing them. I have to finish him. He is the one who destroyed me and took everything."

"At least the children…" Fishlegs murmured as Tallon looked away.

"You can contact them, Fish, and offer them sanctuary," he said in a dead voice. "But they won't take it. Helheim, would I take anything from the man who was destroying my father?"

"The kids are smart," Fishlegs argued suddenly. "They know what their father is! They know how unreliable and untrustworthy he is! And given the chance to get away from him and live their lives, or stay with him, they'll escape."

"They won't leave their mother," Tallon murmured.

"You think she'll stay?" Fishlegs asked him, incredulously. "She has more reason to hate him than anyone-that much is obvious." He flinched.

"She's a beautiful and brave woman-but she chose him," he said, his voice sounding as if he was trying to convince himself.

"And she doesn't deserve him either," Fishlegs pressed. Tallon shook his head.

"Contact the children if you wish," he repeated, "but I doubt they will take your offer. Call me if Eret miraculously finds the money but otherwise…I'll be in the hanger. I need to tinker, to create something. I'm getting tired of destruction. But thankfully, after this last one, I'm done. Once Eret is taken down, I can leave this place forever."

oOo

"Can't you do anything?" Eret's demand was loud in the bar of the Casino, the neat shapes of the waiters giving their owner a wide berth as he raged. There were smashed and scattered glasses across the plush scarlet carpet from where he had taken out his tantrum on the stock of bespoke lead crystal tumblers and now he was chugging brandy from a bottle, sitting on a stool at the bar, idly crushing olives on the polished marble surface.

"Regrettably, I cannot overturn the judgement of the High Court," Johann Trayder told him smoothly, sipping his cognac and observing the man opposite him. Eret had always played fast and loose and had ridden his luck, supplemented by deception, treachery and deceit. Yet there had always been a soft underbelly to the man that had made him vulnerable: his fantasy that he was more than he was, a man who lived life large and treated the Casino as his personal bank rather than as a money-making enterprise. The fact he had long supported a string of mistresses, showered with expensive gifts, and had never stinted himself anything he desired meant that that the current predicament had been inevitable.

"Why not?" Eret asked petulantly. "I thought you were supposed to be the big I am, the Trade Minister! I thought you pretty much held the Archipelago in the palm of your hand!" The tone was scornful. Johan slammed his balloon down harder than he had intended, his voice growing ice cold and dark with menace.

"Because your stupidity and recklessness has exposed us all!" he snapped. Eret cocked an eyebrow.

"How so?" he scoffed. Johann leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowed with fury.

"Your determination to swindle your 'buddy', the billionaire Tallon Fury out of two of his top-of-the-range aircraft backfired, you numpty!" he hissed. Eret gave a twisted smile.

"Nice planes though," he commented.

"You never paid a penny towards them!" Johann spat. "Gods, I could not have believed someone who is businessman could be as stupid as you."

"I never needed to worry," Eret scoffed.

"I see that idiot Viggo supported you far more than he should," Johann condemned him. "He shielded you from minor debts when allowing the minnows to win and feel they were at least being given a hearing would have been much more politically astute."

"A friend doesn't allow his allies to be bothered by trivial matters like small claims," Eret scoffed.

"A politician would-if he had any intent of remaining in power," Johann told him. "However, you pestered Viggo like a whining schoolgirl until he helped you out with matters that any responsible businessman would have dealt with himself so that you never ever paid any debts. You seemed to believe that you were immune to the requirement to pay what you borrowed back-and he believed he was untouchable as well. So look how that worked out for him? He's in jail for corruption and you are bankrupt!"

"I still own…" Eret began but Johann grabbed his throat and glared into his eyes.

"You own nothing!" he spat. "You signed that contract with Tallon Fury that gave his debts precedence over all others."

"I was lied to and didn't understand what I was signing," Eret said automatically, tense at the proximity of Johann who he knew was a man who had killed without hesitation.

"Regrettably, you waived those rights-when Fury's agents delivered the aircraft," Johann told him. "Were you aware they wore bodycams and recorded the whole handover? You're there waiving the right to run it through your lawyers, refusing to take advice and signing everything away. You admit you got the documents ahead of time per contract and that you didn't bother to read them…but you signed them anyway and refused to wait. The court watched the whole thing and agreed you had waived all rights-and that the contract was legal. Every debt you have now is voided to Tallon Fury's. Including MINE!"

Eret jerked back, seeing murder in the man's eyes.

"I would never welsh on you, Johann!" he gabbled, feeling panic rise in his throat. "I know that you and Lord Drago are my best allies…"

"We're your only allies," Johann snapped. "And I want the dues on this Casino." His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer his voice dropping menacingly. "You know what I want."

Eret stared at the man and his body heaved with the ragged breaths. There was a tiny sliver of Eret that was a decent man-deeply buried under years of self-indulgence, selfishness and cruelty-that baulked at the price but the much larger part that sought self-preservation rationalised the sacrifice with sickening ease.

"Done," he said. "And the other things?"

"Lord Drago will welcome you if you choose to join him-in gratitude for all you have done for the cause," Johann promised. Then he fished in his pocket and handed over an envelope. "And this was the guarantee you sought." Eret gave a cruel smile and tapped the paper onto the bar.

"All good things come to an end," he murmured. "Time to pick my side-and divest myself of all ties to the past. From now on, it's all for me."


End file.
